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reidmania · 5 months ago

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opposites attract | s. reid

summary; spencer would give the world to be your person, even after you argue that you two are too different.

warnings; fem reader, pining!spencer, lowkey pining!reader, bombshell!reader, rejection, reader is described as confident and more of a black cat, insecurities, doubting, a bad date mentioned, happy ending, spencer lowkey gets frustrated, reader has tattoos.

an; messy and switches perspectives whoopsies. Idk how many words, a lot. Too many.

Two years. That was how long Spencer had been a complete and utter mess. Two years since his brain didn’t quite function the same, he remained intelligent, sure, but god so incomplete. Two years since you started at the BAU, two years since he met you.

You were out of his league. He had decided it the moment he laid eyes on you. You were stunning, absolutely perfect in anyones gaze. You were everything he could ever want and more, not just physically. Your laugh, your voice, the way you spoke to everyone around you, gentle, warm. The way you sat quietly in the corner most days, not because you felt out of place, nor shy, not because you didn’t enjoy being there, but just because no matter where in a room you were, your presence was known. Especially to Spencer.

He tried to pretend that he didn’t fall completely in love with you the first time the two of you ever had a conversation and you spoke to him with a smile, listened to him, he tried to pretend the scent of your perfume didn’t make him lightheaded, and the sight of your tattoo that he only saw on occasion’s didn’t make him wonder if you had more, what made you get it, was there meaning?

Spencer wanted to know everything about you, he wanted to live in your brain and know your every like and dislike, what made you smile a little wider, what made you unable to stop laughing, what your favourite drink was, what colour you liked the most, where your family was from, your middle name.

Spencer would stop the world to know you.

That was impossible to hide, even two years later. He tried, so many times to get your attention, to be the subject of your fascination. It didn’t help that every-time you looked in his direction his skin grew ten temperatures too warm and his head spun.

He tried asking you out, twice. Sort of.

The first time was too subtle, too rambling and hidden in the mix of stutters and hot cheeks, fidgeting hands. Because you were looking at him, with a gaze so intense and caring, patient.

How was he ever suppose to talk when you were looking at him like that? Like there was something that made him worth the gravity the warmth in your eyes held.

“Would you date me?” It was blurted out on a Tuesday afternoon, you were standing beside him as the buzz of the bullpen had calmed down, your gaze was focused on reorganising the files on his desk, his gaze was on you. You were reorganising because you didn’t like the way he had done it, and it had been ‘bugging’ you for weeks.

Spencer loved the way his files were organised, but he loved you more.

It was stupid, he didn’t even mean to say it. It was out of place leaving his lips and he knew it the moment your head turned towards him and a sweet laugh left your lips, not mocking him, god you would never. It was a laugh of shock, confusion, maybe even surprise.

“Are you asking me out?” You asked, raising your eyebrow slightly as you met his eyes. His cheeks heated before he could help it, eyes went wide because he had no idea what he was doing.

“What- I- no.” His voice was an octave higher, a tell sign he was nervous, if you needed any more tell signs between the fidgeting of his hands, his bright pink cheeks and his avoidant gaze. You smiled as you shook your head, looking back at the files on his desk, he watched your hand as your ran your finger along them once they were organised neatly, anyone else he might’ve cringed at the sight, but it was you.

“I don’t think so” You had mumbled in response and Spencer felt the world shift into an imbalance. You said it so casually. He didn’t know if his heart was beating too fast or if it was breaking. You turned your head back to look at him, a frown on your lips when you saw the frown that had snuck its way onto his features before he could even realise.

“Not because you aren’t great. Or attractive. You are — You definitely are. I just think we are too different.” You said. His eyebrows knitted together as he met your eyes. He hated the fact you were frowning, he hated the fact he was frowning. He hated what you had just said, god he loved you.

“Right” he didn’t know what to say.

“Spence” You spoke through a warm huff of laughter, shaking your head as you twisted your body to face him fully, your hip leaning against the desk as you crossed your arms over your chest. He watched your hair fall down the sides of your face, over your shoulders. He wondered if you had changed your shampoo since the last time, the only time you had hugged him a few weeks ago, when he had gotten the chance to breath it in, and then it was all he thought about for weeks.

You smiled at him and it was contagious, despite the ache in his chest and overwhelming sense of illness in his stomach, you were smiling. “I think you’re amazing, i always have” you started and his cheeks warmed more. “But we are complete opposite’s.”

He wanted to argue you. Say that he could change and be more like you, more like the guys he had seen pick you up after work, he could be whatever you wanted. He could be someone. Someone to you.

But he didn’t.

That was the last time Spencer had attempted to ask you out, you never bought it up. You never questioned it again, you didn’t push you ask why he wanted to know. Spencer remained sickeningly in love with everything about you, you remained pretending to not notice.

Why were you here? You couldn’t quite remember or find the time to think about it properly between the noise surrounding the fancy restaurant you were in and the sickening long rant the boy in front of you was going on. Something about a business, something about saving it, something egotistical and sickeningly boring.

The date starts out fine. It’s all small talk at first—work, hobbies, the usual pleasantries. But soon, you realize that Mark has a lot to say. About himself. A lot.

“And then I closed the deal,” he says, recounting some work story about how he single-handedly saved his company from financial ruin. He leans back in his chair, smiling like he’s just told you the most fascinating thing in the world. You nod politely, but your mind starts to wander. His voice fades into the background as you think about something else, someone else.

Spencer.

You wonder what he’s doing right now. Probably at home, curled up with a book, or maybe he’s watching a documentary. You can almost picture him, pacing around his apartment, muttering facts to himself about some obscure topic that no one but him finds interesting. But you love that about him. He’s so passionate about everything, even the things that most people would overlook. And he’s never trying to show off. He just loves sharing what he knows.

You try to pay attention to the guy in front of you, you really really do. But god he is so boring. You wonder how quickly you could get one of your friends to come save you from this horror of a date. You wonder how long you would have to hide in the bathroom for before he disappeared.

Mark’s voice pulls you back to reality. “So, what do you think?” he asks.

“Hmm?” You blink, realizing you’ve missed the last five minutes of whatever he was talking about.

“I was saying,” he repeats, a little slower this time, “I just think it’s amazing how people like me can juggle so many things at once. Don’t you think?”

You smile, but it’s strained. “Sure, that’s impressive.”

As the date drags on, you start to notice little things. Like the way Mark talks to the waiter, snapping his fingers for attention, barely looking up from his phone when the waiter brings the food. He doesn’t say thank you. Not once. It’s subtle, but it grates on you. You find yourself cringing, wondering if anyone else notices.

He was much more interesting when he asked you out a few nights ago at a bar, when you were drunk. Why had you agreed? Maybe drunk you saw something sober you didn’t. Or maybe drunk you just saw a male who was conventionally attractive and made you laugh. You wondered how low the bar was

You didn’t have a lot of time to wonder before you heard your name from behind you, your head spun and you almost cried with gratefulness when you saw Penelope standing there, a wide grin on her face, and then Spencer standing beside her, he offered you a gentle shy wave that made your heart warm.

“Oh my gosh! Do you guys want to come sit?” You asked, praying they said yes, praying that Penelope noticed the wide urgent look in your eyes and understood that you were begging. You were genuinely begging for a conversation about anything other than Mark’s biggest accomplishments.

“Oh- We don’t want to interrupt.” Spencer mumbled, looking between you and Mark, the two of you sitting opposite sides of the booth you were in. You noticed the look in Spencer’s eye, you knew what it was. He didn’t want to sit there while you were on a date with someone else. Clearly he misread the urgency in your gaze.

“No! Mark doesn’t mind? Do you mind Mark?” You asked, spinning your head around to face Mark who was confused on the two people and why they were talking to you. Why they had interrupted him. You had to hold back the urge to roll your eyes.

“Uh..” he started, you cut him off. “He doesn’t mind. Come sit.” You shuffled over to make room for the two.

Penelope slides into the booth beside you, while Spencer takes the seat across from you, next to Mark. He looks nervous, his fingers tapping against the edge of the table, but he offers you a small, shy smile.

“What are you guys doing here?” you ask, trying to suppress the excitement bubbling up inside you.

“Oh, we were just nearby, and I figured we’d grab something to eat,” Penelope says.

Spencer fidgets with his napkin, glancing at you, then back at the table. “I-I was telling Penelope about this, uh, documentary I watched the other night. It’s about the history of the subway system in New York. I think you’d really like it.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

He nods, his eyes lighting up as he starts to explain. “Yeah, it’s fascinating, actually. They had to navigate all these geological challenges, and the engineering behind it is incredible. I know you mentioned once that you’re interested in architecture, and I thought you might appreciate how they designed the stations.”

You stare at him for a moment, surprised. You don’t even remember telling him that you liked architecture, but he did. And now, here he is, rambling about a documentary he thinks you’d enjoy, not because he’s trying to impress you, but because he genuinely thought you’d find it interesting.

Meanwhile, Mark is looking more and more uncomfortable, clearly not enjoying the conversation. He cuts in, talking over Spencer to launch into another story about himself, but you’re barely listening anymore. Instead, you’re watching Spencer, noticing how different he is from Mark. Spencer, who’s always so considerate, who listens more than he talks, who looks at you like you’re the most important person in the room, even when he’s nervous.

And then there’s Mark, who hasn’t asked you a single question all night, who’s rude to the waiter, and who’s more interested in hearing himself talk than getting to know you.

“I think I might head off..” Mark muttered, clearly annoyed at the fact you had not only been interrupted on your date, but also frustrated that you were paying more attention to Spencer than him. You couldn’t care less.

“Oh okay! Have a good night” You smiled, sickeningly nice as he shuffled his way past Spencer to leave the table. He glanced at you once, not saying anything before he walked away.

“He was an asshole!!” Penelope bursts out into laughter the minute Mark was out of earshot, you immediately joined her laughter while Spencer remained quiet, shuffling around on the now empty side of the booth.

“Those are the type of guys you go out with?” He asked, his voice was quiet, almost offended. You wish you understood why when you stopped laughing at met his gaze. You opened your mouth to talk as the tension around the table grew.

“Hey! Don’t judge!” She gasped out, pointing her finger dramatically at Spencer, clearly not noticing his underlying feelings and why he had even said anything, you did. “It’s slim pickings out here!!”

Spencer hummed, tapping his fingers against the table as he avoided meeting your gaze. You frowned slightly. Soon enough the conversation fell back into rhythm, flowing like it did any other time. They ate, you paid since it was your date. Then Penelope left.

You stood outside of the restaurant, looking around the busy streets. “How are you getting home?” Spencer asked, his gaze meeting yours as you tilted your head upwards to look at him, you couldn’t not smile. It was impossible not to smile around Spencer.

“Uh- Walking. I walked. It’s really not far.” You nodded to support your words as you buried your hands inside the warmth of your pockets. You had been in a state since Spencer had gotten there, a state you couldn’t quite explain. Silently lost in thought, a state of confusion? Maybe realisation.

“I’ll walk you home. Its late.” He said it like it was a no brainer. Like it was the most obvious thing for him to do. No date you had ever been on had offered you walk you home.

Every time Spencer speaks, you feel yourself softening, smiling without even realizing it. His nervous energy, the way he fumbles over his words, it’s all so endearing. He’s not trying to prove anything to you. He just wants to share the things he loves with you, and it’s the sweetest thing.

“Okay.” You breathe out the silent agreement before your feet find rhythm next to Spencer’s as you walk down the street, the post lights causing an orange glow across the ground, across his face.

“Theres a study.” Spencer started, his breathe coming out warm against the cold air causing a fog of steam to follow his breath, you watched it for an moment before your eyes flickered to the side of his face, you’re still walking, his gaze doesn’t meet yours.

“That uh— Shows that opposites attract, it’s more of a theory, since scientifically it doesn’t actually work like that — although negatives are attracted to positives if you’re looking at electricity — but uh- People believe that a lot of people are attracted to people opposite them, because each person offers something the other lacks, making the relationship feel more complete.. Majority of relationships that are built off of opposites work better than people who are too similar because theres more of a balance.. its chaotic but, it uh — it works.”

He was nervous. You could tell. Your breath hitched slightly as he spoke, as he brought it up again. Your mind tried to process the overload of information he had mumbled out. You tried to process it.

“So scientifically we wouldn’t work.” You huffed out. He laughed. Genuinely laugh, it was breathy and quiet but genuine and it made your heart warm.

“Technically— but theoretically—”

You cut him off, a rare occurrence, “I thought you were a science guy.” You mumbled.

He was quiet for a moment before he spoke. “I think I am just a you guy.”

You didn’t know what to say. It was sweet in a way that your brain couldn’t process. He was going against everything he believed to be correct because he wanted you?

“I thought data and statistics are the most reliable source of information.” You mumbled the response, words he had said, probably months ago. Why were you fighting him on this? Why were you fighting yourself on this? You weren’t sure.

“Sure; most of the time. But they are subjective. Especially when talking about psychologically. Each couple, each set of people — they’re different.” He said, his gaze didn’t meet yours. You pulled your eyes away to focus on the street in front of you. You were getting closer to your house, yet part of you wanted to stay right here.

“You think we could work?” You asked. It was a whisper.

He paused, you could see him nod in your peripheral. “I do. I’d make it work, i’d do anything.” Maybe it came out more desperate than he had intended, you found it sweet.

You found him sweet.

“Spencer” you paused your movements and his stopped with yours. His body turned to face you as you looked up at him. His eyes were pleading, desperate, hoping. It almost made your heart ache at the slight fear in them, that you were going to maybe reject him again.

But you found him sweet.

“Id date you.” You answered the question he had asked maybe months ago now, you didn’t realise until now that you had conveniently stopped outside your house. You turned your head to look at the front door before back at Spencer.

“Can i- uh- Will you- I-“ He stuttered and your heart warmed at his nervous attempt to ask you out.

“Yes.” You answered gently, saving him the hassle. Maybe being different was a good thing. Maybe you could beat the statistics that proved otherwise.

Maybe opposites did attract.

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myafterlifeisbetterthenyours · 1 year ago

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Stolas, Millie, Loona, Vaggie, Stella, Husk, Beezlebub and Asmodeus accidentally hitting their S/O During a Fight.

Stolas

It shouldn't have even been an argument.

Looking back he felt awful about the whole thing, it was all so stupid.

Now, despite his extensive and near limitless wealth, at the beginning of your relationship you made it clear you refused to mooch off of him.

Completely that is, he still spoiled you rotten, and you weren't planning on stopping him, But you had a job, maintaining a level of independence, something you took great pride in.

Stolas supported this with gusto, loving your independence as well as adoring the simple assurance you weren't just with him for the money and status.

It all spawned from when he'd asked you to preform a simple chore, something he'd normally do but had a packed schedule, so asked you to do it.

But of course, with your own busy schedule, you'd forgotten, the task going undone the entire day.

Coming home Stolas would snap at you, having endured a particularly stressful day, only for you to snap back.

You'd break into a heated argument, the both of you picking at every petty thing about each other you could.

Snapping at each other for the sort of things you'd never think to bring up before, but in that moment the both of you were just looking for things to get mad about.

But it'd be after Stolas made a remark, a shallow, but derogatory remark on your status as a Hellborne.

And that, well, that gave you something to genuinely be mad about.

You'd snap back at him, bringing up a moment of vitriolic anger, genuinely hurtful information, the sort you'd never have brought up otherwise.

Stolas, completely shocked by such a vicious outbreak, would snap.

Not mentally, but physically.

He didn't even realise what had happened until he looked down, seeing you holding your cheek, staring up at him in horror.

Cold dread filling him, his stomach dropping as he realised what had happened, the man stumbling back, horrified with himself.

"I... I..." He tried to speak but failed, unable to say anything.

You'd turn away, breathing shaky as you struggled to keep yourself composed.

Stolas would reach out to you, hoping to fix the situation. To prove he hadn't meant it.

If you pulled away, the man would break down, apologising profusely, the Owl in an exceptionally fragile state, apologising again and again, having a full breakdown as he begged you for forgiveness.

Your relationship would suffer heavily, but could heal depending on how willing you were, the man profusely apologetic, promising that'd never happen again, terrified he'd be a monster like Stella was to him.

If instead you allowed him to embrace you, he'd pull you close, crying profusely as you held each other, accepting what had happened and your mutual role in it.

You'd end up in his arms, the man holding you to his chest fluff, your favourite spot, the two of you just sat there for hours, holding each other close.

Yous talk softly, both of you apologising, but Stolas practically begging for forgiveness.

He'd feel awful for bringing a physical element to your relationship.

Not that you didn't already get physical, 17 broken bed frames in 9 months proved you got plenty physical, but becoming physically abusive was literally the very last thing he EVER wanted, especially for his partner.

It would take some time, the two of you spending countless hours holding each other close, talking through your issues countless times.

It'd be after stolas would apologise for the hundredth time, you cupping his face and telling him gently you forgave him, that your relationship would really begin to heal.

Stolas would be on edge for a while, going above and beyond for you, ensuring you knew exactly how much he loved you, being extra careful to be as un-intimidating as physically possible.

But your relationship would heal, you loving the owl boi and him loving you, the two of you handling and moving past the bump in your relationship in a surprisingly healthy fashion, the man only loving you even more by the end of it.

Millie

Now, Millie was an interesting contradiction.

On one hand, violence was natural for the girl. Growing up on Wrath It was necessary, becoming second nature for the Imp'et, but despite this she was also exceptionally good at keeping her cool.

She'd only get violent when necessary, and usually in your defence more than anything.

But it'd be some massive fight, the two of you really going at it, that her Wrathern side would kick in.

The girl shoved you.

And this is Millie, so a 'shove' actually meant she pretty much threw you across the room.

Millie covered her mouth as you slumped against the wall, groaning as you got up.

Millie would move to you, rushing to your side, doing her best to care for you, your arm being injured in the crash.

Getting up Millie would attempt to help you, clearly distraught, trying to assure you she was sorry.

If you pulled away from Millie, the farm girl would be totally distraught.

Never had she had to fear her body nor her killer instincts before, in fact, you loved her body, and the way she was usually the most deadly person in the room, hoo boy, you adored it.

That was one of your favourite parts of her.

And not just for the sexual aspect, though there was plenty of that but for her sheet ability.

She was confident and had the physicality to back it up, which in and of itself, was insanely hot.

But, getting hit by her, even it it was unintentional, would drastically change your view of it all.

You'd stumble back, tears building in your eyes as you stared up at her.

Millie, covering her mouth, would feel horrified.

She'd never mean to hurt you. That's literally the last thing she'd ever wanted to do to you, at least not like this.

But sure enough, she'd hit you, her baser instincts kicking in, the girl striking on pure instinct.

She'd move to you, already apologising, trying to assure you.

You'd be emotional, adrenaline pumping hard as you made the choice.

She'd reach out for you, hoping to show she wasn't evil, that she was sorry and meant only the best for you.

If you pulled away, Millie would feel downright awful. She'd probably pull in herself, freaking out internally as she pulled back.

She'd be entirely distraught, the woman becoming horribly self concious, paranoid of her every action, fearful of if she could hurt you again.

She'd try to reach out to you, trying her very best to reach out to you, but unless you were willing to reconcile with her, seeing it from her side, she'd likely have a minor, though well maintained breakdown, the woman freaking out over the whole thing.

Your relationship could recover, but it'd take a lot of communication and understanding, the both of you working through the event and the subsequent issues in a slow, healthy manner.

If you instead leaned into her touch, the two of you would hold each other close.

Millie and you would sit there for a long while, sat there, speaking softly.

You'd go back and forth for a while, both of you apologising. Talking through the issues that led to the argument.

The next few weeks would be tender, you obviously hesitant whenever she got mad, or became physical, the girl noticing how you flinch or watch her warily, fearful of her body.

She hated that. You used to worship her body, and while it wasn't about her ego, she missed be able to be herself around you, it stinging all the more that she only had herself to blame.

As such she would make sure to smother you in positive affection, the girl near constantly hugging or holding you close, never too harshly but enough that you'd get used to her physic, learning to trust being in her arms again.

Her favourite act to simply have you on her lap, holding you close in her muscular, yet feminine form, the girl holding you possessively, gently kissing or whispering in your ear, purring sweet nothing's.

Your relationship would be damaged, absolutely, the whole thing becoming a scar on your relationship, and yet, with some mutual care and respect, you'd not only recover, but your relationship would grow stronger from the affair.

The both of you would acknowledging your part in the argument, promising each other to do better.

It'd take some time to get back to where you were before the incident. To truly trust and love each other like you had before, yet with an abundance of love an dcare for the the other, you'd grow an even stronger, more intimate bond, the two of you coming to truly love and trust each other, your relationship becoming unbreakable.

Loona

Your relationship with Loona would be... odd.

Both in good and bad ways.

You'd have a passionate, if immature relationship, loving each other deeply but struggling to express it properly, the both of you immature and unable to properly work through your emotions in the best ways.

Fights... weren't exactly common, but they weren't rare either, though in fairness, most of your fights were just petty squabbles that worked mostly as an excuse for amazing make up sex.

But well, Loona was a temperamental woman at heart, and well, that temper had a habit of flaring on a whim.

It'd be on a particularly off day, the girl just looking for a fight, but when it became clear you simply couldn't avoid or talk through this random bout of aggression, you'd let her pick the fight.

You'd go back and forth for a while, arguing and yelling at each other, though throughout it, it was clear your heart wasn't in it, you just going through the motions to let Loona let off some steam.

The problem was, Loona's was.

And it'd be after some sarcastic remarks that Loona would snap at you with a genuinely hurtful remark.

You snapping back with a slightly harsher retort, and that's when the actual fight began.

You'd quickly break into a screaming match, the both of you trying to shout down the other.

But after Loona made a snide comment on you, you'd snap back, insulting her just as harshly, if not worst, really twisting the blade as it were.

Loona, shocked you'd make such a comment, would jump at you.

Now, to be clear, you and Loona often got physical, when fighting or otherwise. But this was different then the usual rough housing you'd do.

This wasn't the teasing hands on stuff you'd done countless times before, the wrestling and headlocks she used to do to assert dominance.

No, this was an attack.

She snarled, the two launching across the room, crashing into the wall, you trying to get away only for her to hit you, something halfway between a slap and a punch.

But that was enough to leave you stunned, staring up at her as she raised her fist again.

She sat there, teeth bared, fist clenched, staring down at you as you stared up at her in horror.

Loona, breathing harshly, realised what what she'd just done, staring down at you as tears formed in your eyes.

You looked scared.

Scared of her.

She threw herself off of you, horrified realisation rocking her form, the feeling only growing worse as you moved away from her.

She'd sit there for a minute, processing everything that'd happened, analysing her part, then yours, then her part.

Tears would well in her eyes, the girl slowly getting to her feet.

She'd apologise through tears, hands shaking as she held back ugly sobs, the woman moving to you, pleading and apologising profusely.

She'd get so close she could almost touch you, pleading for you to believe she'd never mean to hurt you.

If you pulled away, Loona would have a full on breakdown, pleading, begging you to believe she never wanted to hurt you.

She'd likely sit there sobbing for a long time before getting up and running to the only person she could think of.

Blitzø.

Now, upon finding his sobbing daughter, he would naturally become enraged, the man wanting to track you down and neuter you.

But Loona would demand he shut up and sit down, the girl explaining what had happened.

Now Blitzø was no expert on relationships, Satan knows had more failed relationships then teeth, and knowing she'd hit you would really put him in the a pickle.

So, he'd pull in the best relationship he knows.

Millie and Moxxie.

Millie would immediately go into mumma bear mode.

She'd be firm, but fair with Loona, the woman acknowledging that she was in the wrong but not entirely one sided, as you had engaged, but ultimately she was at fault.

Striking your partner is never alright.

Mostly.

So, she'd take the initiative, reaching out to you on Loonas behalf.

Now, she wouldn't do all the work, not at all, but she'd open the doorway to reconciliation.

From there, it'd truly be in yours and Loonas hands, the both of having to decided if you could make it work.

But if instead you let her approach you, letting the girl hold onto you.

She'd sob, apologising profusely, apologising for everything, the girl latching onto you.

You sit there for a long time, loona having a good cry. But eventually she'd calm down, the girl apologising profusely for hitting you, for starting the argument. For being such a bitch.

You'd speak for a long, long time, talking over the argument, going over both your parts, acknowledging and apologising for your part in the fight, though loona was far more apologetic, the girl deeply ashamed for her part in it.

You'd set some new rules and boundaries, the two of you knowing you couldn't let something like that happen again, as such you'd both set a list of rules.

The most prominent of which being that when your frustrated or angry with each other, you'd text the other. From there you'd talk a little, likely call the other, then you'd meet, speaking it through.

It was a system you both adhered to religiously, the two of you communicating through text or phone often, discussing any and all issues you had.

Your relationship would be uneasy for a while afterwards, you still on edge, flinching when she was angry. Over all, this whole ordeal got the young hellhound to calm down, learning some much needed restraint, your mutual affection developing in a slow, constructive and healthy manner.

Vaggie

Now, Vaggies temper was actually one of the things you loved about her.

She was firy and passionate and took no shit from nobody, something you loved.

The problem with your relationship was that you loved to tease her, and that got her riled up the quickest.

Now, it was was always in good fun, usually just to get a rise, followed by some soft kisses and apologies.

It was always in good fun.

But, on that fateful day, you made the decision to tease her.

Vaggie, while not the biggest fan, normally didn't mind your teasing, but on that day, having dealt with both Charlie and Alastor, she was in no mood for your teasing.

So, when you prodded and teased, the girl warning you to stop.

You not taking her seriously would prod her again, Vaggie on her last nerve, would slap you, leaving you shocked.

Vaggie, realising what she'd done, would cover her mouth, horrified.

Now it would definitely be stiff for a moment, both of you realising what had happened.

After a moment Vaggie would apologise.

Now you could take this two ways.

You could walk off, Vaggie feeling awful for hitting you.

It would be up to you whether you forgave her.

If you instead stayed there, the both of you would stand there for a moment, the both of you tense before suddenly, a smile broke across your face, the both of you breaking into laughter, the two of you having a laugh.

Vaggie would step closer, gently touching your face, seeing how your cheek swelled in a hand shaped pattern.

She'd apologise, you taking her hand in yours, gently kissing the appendage, apologising as well.

You'd share an intimate little moment, acknowledging your mutual faults, before laughing it off, agreeing to move past that.

You'd hold her close, the two of you sharing a warm smile before a kiss, holding the short Queen close.

Stella

Now Stella... Didn't get violent.

At least not to you. You were her S/O after all.

But the woman was prone to outbursts, usually angry and especially during an argument, the woman able to go from zero to a hundred like it was nothing.

Granted, those fights usually ended in even more passionate fuckings, the two of you having am... unhealthy, yet passionate romance. Both of you aware of the fact yet neither wishing to really change it.

It'd be one night, the two of you at it again, scream and yelling, Stella throwing a pot at you, you mocking her for having shit aim.

Only for her throw herself at you, hitting you right across the face.

You'd both pause, you grabbing her arms, pinning her to the wall, the woman unable to escape your grip.

You'd hold her there, showing her who held the physical edge in your relationship.

Now, this was the first time Stella had actually struck you, as while your relationship wasn't exactly the healthiest, not many are in hell, but it was never downright abusive.

Now, you did have the option to walk away, this potentially becoming a vital role in the development of your relationship and be the catalyst to Stella genuinely changing her ways.

But let's be real, this is Stella were talking about, and you were with Stella, you knew thing about her, so that's not really gonna happen.

What would likely happen was sex.

Hot, passionate, and nasty sex, the two of you going again and again like a pair of Hellhounds in heat, you showing Stella who's the boss.

Youd make it clear that she wouldn't do that again, though with what happened last time she hit you, it was incredibly tempting.

But well, at the end of the day, Stella is Stella and with a sex life like yours, I doubt either of you would really wanna change it.

Husk

Alcohol.

Husk's Sinful mistress. A mistress you tolerated. For a while.

Now you liked a drink, Hell that was how you met. And with Husk, and Drink always became several.

And you had plenty of fun with Husk, both ina nd out of the sheets, but well, there was a limit.

You could barely communicate with the man in the later parts of the day, and with night the man became almost incoherent, not to mention how he reeked of an abandoned distillery at all hours of the day.

Granted, you'd spent plenty a night curled up with the man, Husk drunkenly adoring you, the Kitty cat curling up with you, acting very cat like as he reeked like a seedy bar.

Not that he'd ever admit such behaviour when sober.

But over time, you'd become more adamant that he start controlling his alcohol intake, and with this steady increase in your insistence, came a steady increase in fights.

You'd begin with a minor argument on his alcohol intake, it quickly growing into serious fights.

It'd be one night, you and Husk having plans, only for you to find him absolutely fucking sloshed.

You, sick of your S/O constantly being lost in the sauce, would start screaming.

You yelled at the cat demon, the man quickly yelling back.

You'd really get into it, yelling and screaming, going back and forth, the two of you screaming till your throats were sore.

But it'd be as you tried to snatch the bottle out of his hands, wanting him to pay you, ya know, his S/O, some attention.

And it'd be as he yanked the bottle back, that the man swung his arm back at you, smashing you in the face hit his big paw, knocking you to the floor.

Your face would sting, burning as tears stung your eyes, staring up at the cat.

Husk sobered up real quick as the man realised what he'd done.

There would be a long pause before you got up, sniffling to yourself before turning and walking away.

You'd end up sleeping in one of the other hotel's random rooms, you too emotional and frustrated to care which.

The next day you'd walk down stairs with a swollen cheek.

Husk would be waiting at his bar, the man thinking.

He'd been up most the morning, guzzling 2 pots of coffee to keep himself coherent, the cat waiting for you.

Seeing you enter the lobby, the man would jump up, asking, pleading with you to wait, to hear him out.

You'd pause, staring at the floor for several seconds.

If you just walked past him, ignoring his gaze, the man would be crushed. The cat finding himself torn between the bottle and his want to be with you, a desperate want for the familiar blur of intoxication.

He'd try, really hard to get better, to BE better, but with every refusal to engage he'd become more tightly wound, and unless you opened up, trying to work things out with him, he'd end up right where he began, but this time, it'd be all his fault.

If instead you turned, giving him a chance to speak, Husk wouldn't miss the chance.

He'd apologise, telling you he was painfully sorry. He wanted to change. He WOULD change, he just asked that you'd give him a chance.

You'd stand there for a while, but after a moment you turn to him.

You'd tell him he had one chance, if you saw him change, really change, you'd be willing to work it out.

Husk would agree, swearing he'd do his best to be the S/O you deserve.

Youd simply give him a soft smile, telling you hoped he would. You were rooting for him.

That being all the motivation he needed.

Husk really would do his best to go clean, unfortunately going absolutely cold Turkey wouldn't work, the man almost having a psychotic break at the lack of alcohol, and after finding him in such a state, you made a deal.

You'd ration out alcohol, a moderate amount each day, the man allowed to drink whenever he pleased in hopes it would diminish, if not help to ween him off of his alcohol dependency.

So, that's how it would go for the next several weeks. Husk drinking his daily allowance, working through willpower exercises and general hygiene care.

He'd also spend more time with you, and it'd be over the dates and the nights in that the man realised he barely knew you. The cat realising he'd really been an absent S/O.

The whole thing only solidifying his resolve to be better.

Over the next few months Husk's resolve would grow stronger, his willpower higher and most importantly, your relationship would become incredibly strong, the both of you coming to love each other deeply once more.

You'd never directly say it, but you forgave him for the smack, the man thanking you in his own way.

The two of you living a happy, mostly sober, existence with each other, happily in love and able to appreciate it.

Beezelbub

Fights with Bee would not be common, not at all, as despite her somewhat airheads nature, she was surprisingly mature, as well as able to read emotions well, so if you were ever in a mood she'd be on that like sexy was on her.

But well, we all have our off days.

And it'd be on a particularly off day that it'd go down.

Now, you understood that she was the Queen of Gluttony and a major foodie, the woman always eager to eat or drink something.

The problem was the drugs.

Now, dating her, you'd tasted just about every Sinful substance in Hell, but where as bee was happy to do mountains, you always tried to keep it at a healthy level, or well, healthy enough to not lose it, or developed any serious addictions, something Bee respected.

That night, in particular, Bee was on a real bender, the sort for the history books. If they have History books down here.

It'd be as she liquefied some powdered drug, mixing it into her drink, that you'd try to step in.

You'd ask her to slow down a little, not wanting her to freak out and demolish half the house.

Again.

Bee wouldn't like that, eagerly pulling you into join her, practically forcing the bottle down your throat.

That'd be when you snap at her, telling her that was enough.

You were all for fun and games, but this was too much. Every night?! You couldn't stand seeing her drugged out of her mind, not to mention the alcohol, woman barely able to speak coherently, let alone function as an S/O after her daily bender, even if she didn't suffer a hangover like everybody else.

Bee, while usually the kindest most understanding S/O you could ask for, but after a full night of drugs and drinking, she didn't take so well to you harshing the fucking vibe.

The two of you quickly getting into a screaming match, going back and forth, Bees palace empty by the end of it.

Bee would grow a few sizes, screaming at you, it being as you snap at her, telling her she clearly doesn't care for you as much as she does for her drugs.

The now massive Sin of Gluttony snarling, spinning around as she intended to yell about how much of a pain in the ass you were being.

However she she spun, he now Massive hand, slammed into you, launching you across the room.

Luckily for you both, you didn't hit anything, simply sliding across the palace' polished floors, but it would still hurt like a bitch, knocking the wind out of you.

Bee would shrink immediately, rushing to your side.

You were winded, struggling and whining as you tried to breath, in pain and deep discomfort, unable to do anything as she fussed over you.

Eventually you'd get your breath back, panting and wheezing, body sore from the smack.

Bee would be distraught, apologising profusely, the woman in hysterics, crying her eyes out as she tried to convince you she was telling the truth.

You could let her hold you close, allowing her to apologise, to help you recover.

If instead you pulled away, wheezing and struggling to your feet. Bee of course trying to help, you simply snapping, telling her she's done enough.

Your relationship would he frayed, Bee trying her absolute best to make it up to you, to be better and save your relationship.

If instead you let her hold you, letting the Sin care for you in your battered state, Bee would do everything she could, caring for you until you fully recovered, the woman apologising the whole way.

The two of you would take some much needed time together, talking and working through your issues.

It wouldn't be easy, you making sure she knew you didn't wanna control her, but you wanted to be with your S/O, and when she was higher than a kite every night, that became difficult.

While Bee would explain such indulgence was part of her being. It would be like holding back a laugh to not indulge in it.

It would take soem time but the two of you would come to understand each other on a much better level.

Asmodeus

Arguments and fights weren't really a thing for you and Ozzie.

Like, you'd get into tufts. Squabbles and arguments. But never quite a fight.

But this was different, the two of you getting into an argument.

You couldn't even remember what started it, but it was like you'd both been holding something in for months and it was finally let out.

You argued and yelled, going back and forth, arguing over nothing and yet, everything, neither of you willing to stand down.

It'd be as you screamed yet another profanity at the man, moving towards him to let him know just what you thought about him.

And it'd be as you reached the man, about to scream another explitive, that he'd suddenly spin about face, planning on tearing you a new one, only for a loud 'smack!' to ring out, the Sin freezing in place.

Raising his hand, he'd find it stinging ever so slightly, the man looking up to find you turned away, clutching yourself.

Ozzie, realising what had happened would try to reach out to you, trying to process what had happened.

He'd turn you around, finding you clutching your face, your right cheek already swelling.

Ozzie, lowering himself down would apologise, telling you he was so very sorry, assuring you he meant no harm, he'd never intentionally harm you.

You could pull away, leaving him as he pleaded with you to believe he was sorry, that he'd never mean to hurt you. Never!

This, as always, could be the event that makes or breaks your relationship. You could move away from him, still loving him but unable to truly forgive him hurting you, despite it being an accident, your relationship never healing.

Or, as he stood over you, you could let him care for youthe man pulling you to his massive chest, holding you tenderly as he whispered softly apologies, carrying you to your bed.

He'd curl up with you, checking your swollen face, apologising profusely as he tenderly cared for you.

Ozzie would apologise profusely, the two of you holding each other close, holding the other close for a long, long time.

You'd talk for a long time, softly apologising to the other, you nuzzling the man's neck, the Sin holding you in his powerful arms.

You'd spend some much needed quality time together, the silent, tense moment slowly giving way to a warmer mor intimate moment, the two of you quickly giggling and teasing each other, laughing at how ridiculous the whole fight had been.

It'd be as you shared a kiss, you straddling his chest as his powerful hands gripped your body.

It'd be as you parted, a Web of spittle still connecting you that you'd grin, grabbing his collar as you purred out that you kinda liked it.

Ozzie, snapping out of his schoolboy blush, would grin, the man pouncing on you, the two of you making passionate, wild love all night long.

Congratulations everyone! We've reached 3,500 followers!!!

So, as promised I give you a brand spanking new headcanon, I hope you all enjoy it and I hope you had a fan-freaking-tastic holiday season.

I love each and every one of you and wish you the very best, bye bye.

#helluva boss #headcanon #helluva boss headcanon #x reader #helluva boss x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel x reader #stolas x reader #husk x reader #stella x reader #vaggie x reader #millie x reader #loona x reader #beezlebub x reader #asmodeus x reader

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vunblr · 25 days ago

Text

Toy Soldier (part 2)

Bit by bit, torn apart. We never win, but the battle wages on for toy soldiers.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Fluff. Smut. Dark content: Sexual Assault Wounds(Bucky) tried to make it as vague as possible but, there are mentioned. Depictions of Physical Wounds. Psychological Trauma. Canon-Typical Violence.

Summary: She had been the tool Hydra used to keep him operational; he, the weapon manipulated by their tendrils to execute their ambitions. Years after breaking free, fate Sam Wilson brings them together once more. Now, they must navigate the challenges of forging a connection beyond the twisted dynamic that once bound them in the past.

Word Count: 5.5.k.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

“You were there, Hydra.”

Her nails dug into the counter, “…It’s not what you think.”

“What I think,” he said in a low, reflexive voice, “is that you fixed me. Over and over when-”

Her grip on the counter tightened, whitening her knuckles. She didn’t turn to face him. “Prolonged your misery, you mean,” she replied, sharp and bitterly.

The silence in response was almost worse than an argument. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her back. When he finally spoke, his tone was softer, but no less piercing.

“That’s not what I meant.”

She let out a harsh laugh. “Isn’t it? For decades, every time they dragged you back in pieces, I was the one who made sure they could send you out again. If I hadn’t-” Her voice cracked, the words catching in her throat as the guilt she’d buried for years rising like bile in her throat.

“You didn’t have a choice,” he said, stepping closer.

“I could’ve let you die,” she snapped, finally spinning around to face him. Her eyes were burning, her fists clenched at her sides. “I should’ve let you die. It would’ve been kinder than sending you back to... to them.”

His expression didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, pain, perhaps, or understanding. “You think I don’t know that, didn’t think about that?”.

She looked away, unable to hold his gaze. “What do you want from me, Bucky?”

He was silent for a long moment before answering. “I don’t want anything from you. I just...” He paused, exhaling slowly. “I remember you. And I know you didn’t want to be there any more than I did.”

She shook her head, her throat tight. “That doesn’t make it right.”

“No,” he agreed. “But it means you’re not the one I blame.”

She froze, the knife slipping from her fingers and clattering onto the floor. The sound echoed in the small kitchen, but she barely heard it. Never -not once- had it occurred to her that he wouldn’t resent her. If their positions had been reversed, she would have.

“You don’t?” she asked, with a trembling voice.

He took another step closer. “You apologized. Over and over. You cried. You...” His voice caught for a moment before he continued. “You comforted me when they weren’t looking, even if I was just a dull shell sprawled on a table. You talked.”

Her knees buckled slightly, and she braced herself against the counter, her other hand flying to her mouth as the tears started to fall. She tried to hold them back, but it was useless.

“You talked,” he repeated, softer this time, his voice thick with something she couldn’t name. “And it mattered. Even if I couldn’t respond, even if it seemed like I wasn’t there... I heard you.”

She sobbed behind her hand, the weight of years of guilt and anguish crashing down on her all at once. The memories of those moments -whispered apologies, fleeting touches meant to comfort, the tears she’d tried to hide- rose like a tidal wave. She had done everything she could, and it had never felt like enough.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, her words muffled. “I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize anymore,” he reassured her, firmly, but gentle.

She shook her head, unable to stop the tears streaming down her face. “I thought… I thought you’d hate me.”

“I don’t,” He stepped closer until there was barely any space between them. “I never did.”

Her shoulders shook as she let out another sob, her hand still pressed to her mouth. She didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know how to process the weight of his forgiveness.

For the first time in years, she allowed herself to fully cry, not holding back the storm that had been brewing inside her for so long. And as she stood there, crumbling in the small kitchen, she felt the faintest touch of his hand on her shoulder.

She looked up, and her tear-streaked face met his gaze. His eyes were brighter than she’d ever seen them, shimmering with unshed tears he didn’t try to hide.

“Fuck,” she muttered, her voice trembling. She wiped at her face with a shaky hand, a bitter laugh escaping her. “Sorry for making it about me, when you got the worst-”

Before she could finish, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him in a firm, grounding hug.

“Stop apologizing, doll,” he interrupted, his voice was low and rough, filled with insistence. “Just stop.”

She froze in his arms, her breath hitching as the weight of his words and his presence settled over her. Slowly, her hands came up to grip the back of his henley, curling her fingers tightly into the fabric.

“I didn’t know it mattered,” she whispered against his chest, her voice cracking. “I didn’t think anything I did matter if I kept completing the cycle fixing their toy soldier.”

His hand rested lightly on the back of her head, his other arm tightening around her as if to shield her from the weight of it all. “It mattered,” he said firmly. “You there mattered.”

She clung to him, her whole body trembling as years of guilt and fear poured out of her. He didn’t let go, didn’t say another word, just held her until the storm passed.

----

By the time Sam returned, the pot was bubbling gently on the stove, and Bucky was quietly setting up the table, like the most normal thing in the world. He quirked a brow at the unexpected domestic scene but chose not to comment, unwilling to disturb the fragile equilibrium hanging in the air.

“Smells good in here,” he said instead, dropping his jacket onto the back of a chair and sniffing the air. Then turn to her. “See? I knew you’d come through.”

She managed a faint smile as she ladled the stew into bowls, trying to shake off the lingering emotion clinging to her like a second skin. Bucky remained silent, carefully placing utensils in neat lines beside each plate, his usual brooding energy somehow... softer.

As they sat down and began eating the food, Sam’s eyes lit up at the sight of the perfectly prepared meal. “Damn, this is next level. You sure you’re not secretly an old lady in disguise? My mom and Titi used to season like this-”

The words hit her like a slap, and the lump in her throat turned literal before she could stop it. She choked on the bite of a potato, coughing violently as her body reacted to both the physical mishap and the emotional jolt.

Sam’s grin dropped instantly as he jumped up, alarmed. “Whoa, hey! You good?”

Her eyes watered as she waved a hand, her coughs harsh and uncontrollable. She fumbled for her glass of water, but Bucky was already at her side before she could grab it.

“Relax,” he said calmly, his metal hand pressing gently between her shoulder blades while his other grabbed the glass. “Breathe. Small sips.”

She obeyed, taking slow gulps of water as the coughing subsided. Her face burned, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the physical strain or the comment still ringing in her ears.

“Damn,” Sam muttered, sitting back down with a relieved sigh. “You trying to scare the hell out of me over a compliment?”

She forced a shaky laugh. “Sorry. Guess it went down wrong.”

Sam grinned again, trying to lighten the mood. “I mean, I know my compliments are overwhelming, but choking on a tender potato? That’s next-level.”

She managed another weak chuckle, but her mind was elsewhere. She’d been twenty-five years old in 1962 when Hydra abducted her and stole her life away. If he only knew, the reason why her cooking felt like something out of another time wasn’t just a quirky personality trait, but a way of doing things in her time…

“Careful next time,” Bucky’s voice cut her internal rambling, letting his hand linger briefly on her back before he returned to his seat.

“Well, whatever you’re doing, keep it up,” Sam said with a grin, oblivious to the storm brewing beneath her calm facade. “I’m eating like it’s Sunday dinner at my momma’s place.”

She smiled faintly, stirring her stew with her spoon. “Maybe I’m just an old soul,” she said, carefully measuring the words.

Across the table, Bucky’s sharp gaze seemed to catch every nuance of her reaction. She didn’t look at him, but she could feel his understanding, a weight that lingered long after the moment ended.

----- As they cleared the table, the conversation shifted to the mission. “So, the plan’s straightforward,” Sam said, stacking plates by the sink. “We hit the warehouse. You…” he nodded toward her, “go to the bar, try to blend in, and see what you can get out of one of those drunken idiots. Maybe someone slips up about the serum.”

She nodded, drying her hands with a dish towel. “I’ll keep my ears open. A place like that? Someone’s bound to get loose-lipped after a few drinks.”

Bucky didn’t look convinced. He leaned against the counter, crossed his arms, and fixed his sharp blue eyes on her. “Are you sure you’ll be alright there?”

She quirked a brow, tossing the towel aside. “It’s not the first time I’ve done this,” she said dryly.

“You can’t heal yourself,” he said bluntly, his voice lower now as if trying to keep it between them. “What if-”

“What?” Sam’s voice cut in, sharp with surprise. His gaze darted between the two of them. “Heal yourself? What’s he talking about?”

She froze, caught off guard by Bucky’s slip. Her mouth opened, but no words came. After a beat, she sighed and looked at Sam sheepishly. “I... yeah,” she admitted. “I can’t heal myself. That’s why the higher-ups usually want me in safehouses or doing recon in relatively low-risk places. It’s not exactly something they let me disclose freely.”

Sam blinked, clearly trying to process the information. “And you’re just now telling me this?”

“I’m sorry, Sammy,” she said quickly. “It wasn’t my call. It’s classified. I didn’t want to keep it from you, but... orders are orders.”

Sam’s frown deepened, and his gaze flickered to Bucky, narrowing slightly. “And how do you know?”

Bucky froze for a beat. He glanced at her, then back at Sam, clearly caught off guard. “I... just assumed,” he said carefully. “If she’s only doing recon, makes sense she wouldn’t be sent anywhere dangerous if she couldn’t heal herself.”

Sam raised a skeptical brow, crossing his arms. “Assumed, huh?”

She stepped in quickly, “It’s not that complicated, Sam. It’s just... safer for everyone if I’m not put in situations where I’d be a liability. That’s why they don’t send me into direct combat. Bucky probably figured it out because, you know, it’s kind of obvious when someone isn’t charging into the middle of fights, also, you’ve seen my pathetic attempts at hand-to-hand combat.”

Sam frowned, still not entirely convinced, but he sighed, shaking his head. “Alright. But next time, this kind of thing? I’d appreciate a heads-up.”

“I understand,” she said quietly.

Sam exhaled heavily and turned toward the gear he’d set on the table. “Like I said, no risks. Get in, listen, and get out.”

She nodded, glancing at Bucky, who was still standing stiffly by the counter. His face was unreadable, but his eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary before he turned away.

-----

She stepped out of the bedroom wearing a black dress with a low neckline drawing attention to her bosom. It was elegant but provocative, the kind of dress that would make her blend into the bar’s crowd effortlessly, or stand out, depending on who was looking.

Bucky, seated on the couch inspecting his gear, glanced up as she entered the room. His eyes flickered over her for the briefest moment before darting back to the weapon in his hands, subtly clenching his jaw.

She didn’t notice. She was too busy fumbling with her disposable cellphone, the small device looking awkward and out of place in her hands. “Damn things,” she muttered, sweeping her fingers over the screen in frustration. “They’re always different, changing icons and options every time. I just want to be able to call someone, is that too much to ask?”

Sam looked up from packing his bag and snorted. “You sound like my Titi trying to figure out a smartphone for the first time.”

She shot him a look, half annoyed, half amused. “I’m not that bad. These things are just... unnecessarily complicated.”

Sam crossed the room, taking the phone from her hands with a grin. “Let me guess, you miss flip phones? Or, wait, rotary phones?”

She rolled her eyes. “Ha, ha. Very funny.”

“Here,” Sam said, handing the phone back after a few quick swipes. “It’s ready. Just hit the green button if you need to call.”

She rolled her eyes, slipping the phone into her small clutch. “Thanks, genius. I’ll be sure to call if I get stuck in a tech crisis mid-mission.”

Sam winked. “Appreciate that. Wouldn’t want to miss the entertainment.”

From the corner of the room, Bucky’s voice cut through their banter, low and direct. “You sure you’ll be okay in there?”

She turned to him, raising a brow. “It’s not the first time I’ve done this.”

His gaze lingered on her, sharp and assessing. “So? That doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous.”

“I know what I’m doing,” she said evenly, grabbing a flimsy shawl. “You two just focus on your part, and I’ll handle mine.”

Bucky couldn’t shake the nagging pull in his chest that demanded him to protect her. He knew it wasn’t rational, but the feeling refused to be ignored.

When he was nothing but a shell of a man, a puppet incapable of action or defiance, he’d been forced to sit there, motionless, every time a handler punished her. For not fixing him fast enough. For suggesting they let him rest. For surreptitiously passing him a morsel of bread so the hunger gnawing at his stomach from the tissue’s abnormal regeneration wouldn’t make him gag, which would result in a beating for displaying disgusting behaviors. Every time, he’d been powerless, silent in the passenger’s seat of his own mind.

Every slap, every strike with the iron rod, every vicious yank at her hair, every disgusting lecherous touch, he had watched it all through a fog of helpless rage. He’d remained outwardly impassive, Hydra’s loyal pet, incapable of defying orders, no matter how much the feelings burned behind his frozen stare.

But now, being his own man, the thought of her walking into danger felt unbearable. It was wrong. It was twisted. He had the primal and sharp impulse to guard her, to tear apart anyone who dared lay a hand on her again.

It unsettled him, the realization that some part of Soldat’s instincts lingered, ingrained in the marrow of his mind. Protect the one who matters. Eliminate the threats. It was as if those reflexes had twisted themselves into something more human, more his.

He glanced at her as she adjusted the flimsy shawl around her shoulders in an almost dismissive manner. “Just be careful,” he said gruffly.

Her gaze softened briefly. “I will, Bucky. I promise.”

It wasn’t enough to soothe him, not entirely, but he nodded, forcing himself to step back.

Sam clapped his hands together, trying to pump up the mood. “Alright, team, let’s move. The sooner we split up, the sooner we shut this thing down.”

As they all filed out, Bucky lingered for a moment, trailing his eyes after her retreating figure.

----

She stepped out of the cab, and the cold night air nipped at her skin as she adjusted the loose folds of her dress. The bar stood like a beacon of bad decisions, its flickering neon sign buzzing faintly, casting a sickly green glow over the cracked pavement.

Taking a breath, she slipped her disposable phone into her clutch and smoothed her shawl over her shoulders. She strode toward the entrance, each click of her heels a reminder to stay in character.

Inside, the air was heavy with smoke, cheap cologne, and the faint tang of spilled liquor. The sticky floor clung to the soles of her shoes with every step, and she resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose. Her eyes swept the room, taking in the dim lighting, shadowed corners, and the usual mix of dubious characters.

Her gaze landed on a heavyset man sitting near the bar, a whiskey in one hand and a cigar in the other. His tailored suit and gold watch were a sharp contrast to the dingy surroundings. Target acquired.

She approached slowly, sliding onto a stool a few seats away, ordering a drink, letting her body language convey disinterest as she let her gaze wander.

Her clutch buzzed softly. Pulling out her phone with practiced subtlety, she glanced at the screen.

Warehouse was empty. It’s a trap. Be careful.

She swallowed hard, forcing her expression to remain neutral as she slipped the phone back into her clutch.. Taking a slow sip of her drink, she steadied herself. She had to play this right. Calm, poised, unshaken.

Sliding one seat closer to her mark, she leaned slightly on the bar, letting her voice carry just enough to catch his attention. “Looks like you’re having a better night than most.”

The man glanced at her, his eyes narrowing briefly before a slow grin spread across his face. “Better now,” he rumbled, staring at her cleavage without concealment.

She smiled faintly, twirling the glass in her hand as though she didn’t notice his leer. “Mind if I join you? It’s been one of those days.”

He chuckled, nodding toward the stool beside him. “Sure, sweetheart. Misery loves company, right?”

She slipped onto the seat, careful to keep her posture inviting but not overt. “Misery, huh? What’s weighing on you big guy?”

He took a long drag from his cigar, exhaling a cloud of smoke that curled between them. “Work. Always work.”

“Rough day at the office?” she asked lightly, tilting her head in mock curiosity.

The man smirked but suddenly paused, his gaze flicking past her shoulder. His posture stiffened. “Friend of yours?”

Slowly, she turned her head just enough to catch a glimpse of the doorway.

Bucky.

He stood there, tall and unmoving, his broad shoulders casting a shadow against the dim light. His expression was hard, unrelenting, his blue eyes fixed on them like a predator zeroing in on prey. He wasn’t even trying to blend in, his murderous gaze did not attempt subtlety.

“I don’t know the creep,” she said quickly, turning back with a faint laugh. Her hand tightened around the stem of her glass. “Why?”

The man didn’t answer. His hand drifted toward the waistband of his pants, where the outline of a gun was visible. Her pulse spiked, but before she could move, Bucky was already in motion.

In the blink of an eye, he crossed the room, gripping the man’s wrist and slamming it against the bar with a sickening crack. The gun clattered to the floor, and chaos erupted.

Chairs toppled, patrons shouted, and in the confusion, she was shoved back. She stumbled but recovered quickly, grabbing the discarded gun as Bucky took on the man’s lackeys with brutal precision.

“Go!” Bucky barked, his voice cutting through the commotion as he stepped in front of her, shielding her from a bottle hurled across the room.

“I can handle mys-”

Before she could finish, Bucky moved like a bolt of lightning. His vibranium hand shot out, gripping the collar of the armed bartender who had drawn on them. With one swift motion, he slammed the towering man into the wall, leaving him crumpled and unconscious on the floor.

Before she could fully process the scene, he turned to her, gripping her arm firm enough to leave no room for argument, and hauled her toward the bar counter.

“Stay down,” he growled, low and commanding, before shoving her behind it with a force that wasn’t meant to hurt but demanded compliance.

She stumbled, and her hands and knees landed on the sticky floor. A sharp tug at her dress made her wince, probably it had snagged on the metal edge of a dispenser.

“Are you serious?!” she hissed, her face burning as she scrambled trying to get her hands out of the disgusting floor.

Bucky didn’t respond. His attention had already snapped back to the chaos erupting in the room, his body was a blur of calculated precision and brute force. She peeked over the edge of the counter, watching as he disarmed one thug after another, his vibranium arm glinting under the bar’s dim lights as it connected with the offenders, while his human hand delivered equally punishing blows. Each move was efficient and terrifyingly effective.

A chair shattered against his back, but he didn’t even flinch, spinning to deliver a devastating blow to the attacker’s ribs. She winced as the man hit the ground with a groan.

Her irritation at being sidelined simmered beneath the surface, but she couldn’t deny the effectiveness of his approach. The bar was nearly empty now, the smarter patrons having fled while Bucky ruthlessly dismantled the remaining threats.

As the last thug hit the ground, Bucky turned toward her, his chest rising and falling as his gaze locked onto her. “Clear,” he said gruffly, walking toward the counter and extending a hand to help her up.

She hesitated for a split second before accepting, letting her smaller hand to be engulfed in his. As he pulled her to her feet, she muttered, “You didn’t have to throw me like a sack of potatoes.” brushing herself off with a pout.

“You were in the line of fire,” he shot back with a clipped tone.

“I was handling-” she started, but her words caught in her throat as she shifted on her feet and felt an unexpected chill against her skin.

Her hand flew to her rear, patting frantically. Her stomach sank when her fingers met air where there should have been fabric. “Oh, great,” she muttered, her voice tinged with rising embarrassment.

Bucky’s brows knit together as his eyes followed her movements, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “Are you hurt?”

“Just my pride,” she grumbled, “and my wallet, thank you very much. I’m still paying for this dress.”

Ignoring his faint smirk, she glanced around, desperately searching for something to cover herself. Her hands tugged at the torn fabric, but it was no use.

Bucky tilted his head as if reading her mind. “You can worry about it later. Right now, we need to move before backup shows.”

“Oh, because a woman walking down the street with her thong showing through a hole in her dress is very inconspicuous,” she shot back, sarcasm dripping from every word.

His eyes flicked down at the mention of the word thong. Briefly, instinctively. A barely perceptible shift in his expression. She caught it anyway, heat blooming in her cheeks.

“Really?” she snapped, her voice low and mortified. “If you’re done looking, maybe you could grab that guy’s jacket?” She jabbed a finger at the unconscious bartender slumped against the wall.

Bucky blinked, muttering something under his breath before stalking over. He yanked the jacket free and returned with an unreadable expression as he handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, quickly tying it around her waist.

“Let’s go,” he said curtly, already heading for the door.

They slipped out into the cold night, weaving through narrow streets. The uneven cobblestones beneath her heels made each step precarious, and she cursed under her breath about her “stupid dress” and “even stupider shoes.”

When her heel caught on a loose stone, she stumbled. Before she could hit the ground, his hands were supporting her.

Her palms instinctively pressed against his chest for balance, and his body heat contrasted deeply against the chill of the night. “Careful,” he muttered, softer this time, though no less gruff.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, ready to pull away when she registered something sticky and warm under her palm that shouldn’t be there. She froze, glancing down at her hand. Her stomach twisted as she saw it smeared with blood.

“What-” she began.

“It’s nothing,” he cut her off, already stepping forward. “Keep walking.”

Her feet stayed rooted in place, and she narrowed her eyes as she watched him stride ahead as though nothing had happened. Frustration and concern bubbled inside her until she clenched her jaw and grabbed his metal hand, stopping him in his tracks. “Bucky, stop,” she said firmly.

He glanced back at her, with a hard expression. “We don’t have time for this. We need to keep moving.”

She stepped closer, refusing to let go of his hand. “You’re not the Soldat anymore,” she said firmly, locking her eyes on his. “There’s not an only comply rule between us. You don’t get to brush this off like it doesn’t matter.”

His jaw worked as his gaze flickered away from hers. “I said it’s nothing,” he muttered.

She sighed. “After so many years rearranging your body parts like some kind of twisted puzzle... I just can’t.”

His brows knit. Can’t what?”

“I can’t ignore it,” she said firmly, tightening her hand around his. “I know you probably can handle it. Whatever you’ve got under there, I know it’s not enough to take you down. I’ve seen what you can survive -what you can handle- before you collapse.”

His expression hardened, but he didn’t pull his hand away from hers.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s alright,” she continued. “Just because you can take it, doesn’t mean you should.”

For a moment, the only sound between them was the distant hum of street noise and the faint rustle of leaves in the alley.

“We are exposed here,” he muttered, almost defensive, darting his eyes to their surroundings.

“Don’t,” she said, cutting him off sharply. Her tone made him pause. “Don’t brush it off like it doesn’t matter. Like you don’t matter.”

His gaze snapped back to her, startled at the firmness in her tone. It looked as if he might argue for a second, but the fight in his eyes faded.

“Let’s at least get to the bike,” he finally conceded.

She nodded reluctantly, releasing his hand. “Fine. But this conversation isn’t over.”

They continued walking, and when they reached the motorcycle, she stepped in front of him before he could mount it, crossing her arms with a resolute expression.

“Now,” she said, leaving no room for argument. “Sit down. Let me see it.”

His shoulders slumped slightly as he sat on the bike. She bent forward a little, quirking a brow at him expectantly, resting her hands on her hips. The silent command was clear: Lift your shirt.

He sighed, reluctant but resigned, and rolled up his black shirt to reveal three stab wounds on his side. Blood trickled sluggishly from each one, staining his skin and the waistband of his pants.

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head.

“As I said before, it’s nothing,” he muttered, though there was no real bite to his words this time.

“And I told you it’s not nothing,” she replied, her voice softening as she knelt beside him. “Because you’re not nothing.”

He stilled at her words, dropping his gaze to her hands as she reached out. Firm but careful, she pressed her palm gently against the first wound and closed her eyes. As she concentrated, a faint warmth spread beneath her hand, infusing her healing powers into his torn flesh.

The room -or rather, the alley- seemed to fall silent, the chaos of their escape melting away as her power worked its way through his body. He felt the pain ebb, the searing burn of the wound cooling into a dull ache before disappearing entirely.

Her brow furrowed as she moved to the second wound, her free hand steadying herself on his knee. “You need to stop doing this to yourself,” she murmured, her tone more an observation than a reprimand.

“Occupational hazard,” he said quietly, though his voice lacked its usual sarcasm.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his briefly. “Doesn’t mean it’s okay.” The soft warmth spread as the torn flesh knitted itself back together under her touch. She hesitated for a moment, furrowing her brow in thought.

“It’s different... healing you,” she said softly, almost to herself.

Bucky’s expression became curious. “Different how?”

She shifted her palm against the wound. “It’s the serum. It’s like... it siphons my powers like it’s trying to cope with the faster regeneration.”

His brows knitted together. “Drains you? What, like it takes more out of you than it normally should?”

She nodded. “I have to concentrate a lot more when it’s you. It’s not like with normal people, your body doesn’t just accept the healing. It’s like it demands more to work properly.”

Bucky’s expression darkened. “So every time they threw me half-dead on the table for you to fix me…”

Her hands stilled for a moment against his skin, the glow flickering faintly before she steadied herself and continued. “It drained me, yeah,” she admitted. “More than I ever let them see.”

Bucky’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Did it hurt? Does it... now?”

Her movements slowed, and she looked up at him with a gentleness that made his chest tighten. “No, honey,” she said softly, the endearment slipping out like second nature. “It doesn’t hurt. I just get more tired. That’s all.”

He didn’t seem convinced, but he nodded, pressing his lips into a thin line as she moved her hand to the final wound. He watched her intently, unable to ignore the tenderness in her expression or the way her touch seemed to carry a weight beyond physical care.

“This one’s deep,” she murmured, frowning slightly. “Let me concentrate.”

“Alright,” he said gruffly.

She closed her eyes, as the warmth of her powers flowed into his skin. He exhaled slowly, and his body instinctively relaxed again under her touch. The pain ebbed away, but as it did, something else surfaced. A strange, aching melancholy that he hadn’t expected.

It was twisted, so twisted, and he knew it. But decades as the Soldat, the asset with the fried brain, conditioned him to associate her hands with the only semblance of comfort he’d ever known. Her powers healed the damage done to his body, but it was more than that. It was the way her fingers lingered just long enough to soothe, the way she whispered soft reassurances when no one else was listening. She had tried to mend him in ways that had nothing to do with torn flesh or broken bones, and in the endless cycle of missions, pain, and cryo, her care had been the closest thing to kindness he could grasp in his empty existence.

And now, even with his own mind, that feeling lingered, rooted somewhere.

“Bucky?” Her voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. She was watching him, brows knitted in concern. “You okay?”

He blinked, and his throat tightened as he struggled to find the words. “Yeah. I’m fine,” he finally said, though his voice sounded rougher, even to him.

She tilted her head, scanning his features. Clearly, she didn’t believe him but chose not to push. Instead, she focused on healing the wound, letting her hand linger after the glow faded, as if reluctant to break the connection.

“There,” she said softly, sitting back on her heels. “Good as new.”

He nodded, rolling his shirt down and avoiding her gaze. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me,” she said, standing and brushing off her hands. “Just... don’t make a habit of getting stabbed, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a faint smirk, though it quickly faded as he noticed the exhaustion etched into her face.

As she climbed onto the bike behind him, she hesitated, hovering her hands uncertainly over his waist. “Hey,” she murmured. “Do you mind if I lean against your back while you drive?” She paused, almost shyly. “This whole ordeal... it made me a little sleepy.”

The pang of guilt hit him like a slap. Hydra had drained her for years, forced her to heal him over and over without care for the toll it took on her. They had treated her as nothing more than a tool to keep their weapon functioning.

And now, here they were again. Different circumstances, same pattern.

He tightened his grip on the handlebars, glancing back over his shoulder. “Go ahead,” he replied, forcing a lighter tone. “I’m not afraid of losing my modesty.”

Her lips quirked in a faint, grateful smile, that made his chest ache in a way he didn’t fully understand. She shifted closer, wrapping her arms loosely around his waist as she rested her head against his broad back. “Thanks,” she murmured.

“Don’t mention it,” he said quietly, kicking the bike into gear.

As he sped toward the safehouse, he drove more carefully than usual, steering away from every bump and sharp turn, mindful of the precious weight against his back.

Next Chapter

ReaderTag: @sunshinedayz19 @winterstar1917

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky hurt/comfort #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky x curvy!reader

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dolche-tejada · 6 months ago

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You know, I think this ending would have been slightly less of a fucking disappointment if the heroes hadn't been so unfairly favored by Horikoshi compared to the villains. I mean, seriously

Deku destroys every bone in his body multiple times throughout the story and is warned that if he continues, he'll permanently lose the use of his limbs ? Everything's fine, his body's just got used to being reduced to a bloody pulp somehow so there's no consequences for him. In fact even when he literally loses his arms to Shigaraki, he gets them back two minutes later thanks to Eri because guess what ? Her horn still works even when cut off from her body. How convenient.

Gran Torino gets his ribcage obliterated by Shigaraki ? Don't worry guys, he'll survive that despite his old age and injuries, and this to have no particular role in the plot afterwards.

Bakugo dies heroically trying to buy time before Deku arrives ? Lmao, did you really believe it ?? No of course not, Edgeshot just uses his last-minute Deus Ex Machina to save his life at the cost of his own and- Oops nope he's fine too, my bad !

Hawks murders a criminal fleeing for his life in cold-blood ? The best Hori has to offer is him completely free and in charge of the HSPC.

And no, losing his quirk isn't a real consequence for him because not only it literally played a major part in saving the world with Vestige!Hawks raising an insurrection among AFO's quirks, but also because his quirk has always been the element through which people exploited him.

Endeavor abused his family for years and completely destroyed his eldest son ? No jail time and no media backlash for that, the only blame he received was due to the heroes' failure to stop the League during the Raid Arc.

And don't even get me started on this bs about facing hell or whatever for what he's done : He's literally free and wealthy ; he has Rei, Fuyumi, Shoto, his sidekicks and Hawks on his side ; and all the difficulties he's apparently going to suffer are off-screened.

Deku had to sacrifice OFA and his future hero career to save the world ? Guess what, Bakugo invested all his time and money to make him an Iron-Man suit and now he can still be a hero with everyone else.

There are plenty more examples of this but I think you get the idea. Now let's take a look at the villains' ending :

Toya is now a piece of charcoal kept artificially alive for the few years he has left, unable to move a finger, and whose few minutes a day during which he can stay awake will be spent talking to his father who abused him as a child.

Toga, a literal teenager, killed herself to save Ochako and because she knew it's still better than rotting at Tartarus her whole life.

And not only did she die but she did by bleding to death. Let me repeat for those who have trouble grasping what I've just said : In a manga where the heroes can survive having their heart blown to bits, being impaled Kakyoin-style or smashed against buildings like a fly on a windshield, one of the main antagonists died of a fucking hemorrhage…

As for Shigaraki, after learning that his very birth and all the tragedies of his life have been orchestrated by AFO, after all this development and narrative promises about him being saved in the end... Deku just kills him.

Because despite all his speeches about saving him, it seems like the best our MC could do was beating him both physically and mentally until he crumbles to dust…

Compress on his side is apparently locked up for life and kept alive by machines too.

A begging Kurogiri tried in a desperate attempt to save Shigaraki, only to be unceremoniously blown up by Bakugo and dying off-screen without anyone giving a shit, including Aizawa and Mic.

And Spinner will now spend the rest of his life struggling with the extra quirks inside him that affect his body and mind, while having to cope with the thought that his boyfriend best friend and companions have either died alone or are locked away for life in horrifying circumstances.

Clearly not the same as with the heroes...

Now don't get me wrong, even if they suffered just as much from the consequences of their actions or the plot as the League, this ending would still be a disaster in terms of writing but AT LEAST it wouldn't reek that much of hypocrisy.

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angelfic · 16 days ago

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dc vs vampires!dick grayson x reader

warnings — mentions of death, weapons, blood, vampire dick duh. unedited as per usual my bad

a/n; vampire dick gets me going like no other so let me know if i should make this a series… a more fleshed out series or just more drabbles (does this count as a drabble?) idk im asking the audience

dc vs vampires!DICK GRAYSON who allows you to stay human, as a kindness.

you try your best to hide from him, camping out in different bunkers every few months all over blüdhaven with groups of other survivors. the resistance is slowly dwindling and you know of other groups littered around, hearing tales of how each of them are being turned, imprisoned or simply wiped out.

you know he’s sparing you and the people you’re with to play with your mind. he doesn’t truly care for them, and all he wants to do with you is own you like he does the rest of his followers.

you know this, because he comes to visit you in the dead of night when you’re alone.

“hi, sweetheart,” he says, voice as smooth as ever, but you listen intently for the dangerous edge that wasn’t there before.

he steps forward and your stomach swoops as it does every time you see the startling red of his eyes that seem to glow in the flickering light of your room. you instinctively grab the knife tucked away in the waistband of your pyjamas, unsheathing it and gripping it tightly as you raise it in front of him.

“stay back,” you warn, unable to say his name.

he glances down at your knife, and grins wolfishly, revealing the sharp tips of his fangs. “hot,” he whispers, taking a step toward you unflinchingly. “you know i always did love seeing you with a weapon. never thought you’d be turning it on me though…”

he sighs deeply, as if suffering from temporary amnesia. you shake your head, slowly backing up. “you’re insane. you know exactly why. i just don’t understand why you don’t just kill me like you’ve done all the rest.”

dick’s smirk falters for a moment, but his confidence doesn’t waver. “kill you?” he echoes, advancing further. “no, no, i saved you. i could have turned you that night, but i didn’t. because i wanted you to choose, sweetheart.”

“choose?” you hiss, gripping your weapon tighter. “to become one of them? to join you in slaughtering humanity? the same humanity you once loved.”

his expression remains blank, and your heart clenches at the fact that he’s unaffected by your words. he doesn’t care because he physically can’t anymore.

“you’re thinking too small,” he says softly. “humanity was always heading in this direction… all i’ve done is speed it up. i can control it now. no more of the depravity we used to witness, we can be so much stronger. especially with you by my side.”

“yeah,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “me at your side, watching you rule over everything like some kind of God?”

the next step he takes has you frozen. his presence was overwhelming and you’re paralysed by the way his gaze softens even though you know that every move is calculated. “i don’t want to be a God,” he murmurs, cold fingers reaching down to brush gently up your forearm, making you shiver. “i just want you.”

his words hit you like a punch to the chest and all you can do is stare at him. he’s terrifying, but so, so beautiful. you’re sickened by the thoughts running through your head and you screw your eyes shut.

dick takes the opportunity to reach up with his other hand to brush your hair away from your neck, leaning in to inhale deeply.

too late, you realise, his fangs are out as they’re hovering over your throat, threatening to break skin and allow your blood to flow onto his tongue. he always talks about how sweet you’d taste, how badly he wants to drink from you. you don’t bother stopping him — you couldn’t if you tried. surprisingly, he seems content with just staying there and you find your voice eventually.

“stop it,” you whisper, voice trembling. “stop trying to mess with me. i know who you are now and it isn’t the man i loved.”

dick lifts his head, not bothering to increase the distance between the two of you, allowing you to see the way his expression turns troubled. “i’m still me,” he mutters, careful not to let his fangs show as he pleads with you in the way he once did to earn your forgiveness. “i swear, that hasn’t changed.”

“you are not the man i loved,” you enunciate, tears stinging your eyes as you repeat your words to him like you do to yourself in the early hours of the morning when you can’t sleep.

dick’s expression darkens. he catches a stray tear with his finger and tilts his head. his voice is slightly colder now, more detached. “you still love me. i can feel it. but it’s alright, i’m a patient man.”

he drops a kiss to your cheek, where the tears threatened to flow before stepping backwards. “i’ll be back, sweetheart,” he murmurs, reassuring you as if you’ve begged him to stay.

and with that, he’s gone. disappearing into the shadows as quickly as he had arrived.

you collapse to the ground, knife forgotten at your side. your heart feels like it’s breaking all over again.

because this isn’t your dick grayson. you know deep down that your dick doesn’t have pale, ghostly skin that makes you flinch when he touches you. or fangs that glint menacingly when he talks.

but it’s a little hard to remember all those things when he looks at you with those eyes, that in the dimly lit bunker, look as lovingly at you as they used to.

a/n cont.; im gnawing at the gates of dick’s vampire manor begging to be let in so he can turn me… pick me, choose me, bite meeee🧛🏻🤍

#dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson scenarios #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson #dc vs vampires #vampire dick grayson x reader #vampire dick grayson #dc vs vampires dick grayson #nightwing x reader #nightwing x y/n #nightwing x you

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dahlibae · 2 months ago

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— ౨ৎ : how would wanda react if you wanted to call her mommy?

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Well at first, Wanda might be a little taken aback, not because she’s judgmental or anything, but because she’s such an emotionally intuitive and deeply caring person that she’d want to fully understand where you’re coming from. She knew you had a complicated relationship with your mother, you still do, and she knew how you could be in your relationship. You were innately submissive; always willing to follow or do whatever she said with little to not questioning. It was clear you trusted her. She had also noticed whenever you were struggling, you’d rely on her comfort and affection to bring you out of your funk. No self comfort would work, just Wanda’s soft touch and sweet words.

Her initial reaction would likely involve a lot of gentle questions—her Sokovian accent softening as she asks, "what makes you want this, my love? … does it make you feel closer to me?" She’d want to ensure that it’s about trust and intimacy rather than anything that might make you feel uncomfortable or disconnected. And to be honest, Wanda wasn’t opposed to the idea of being your mommy. She loved taking care of you, and she loved to baby you. Being the oldest sibling and only daughter, it was in her nature to be the more caring partner.

Once you both come to the conclusion that this was something you genuinely wanted to explore together, she’d approach it thoughtfully and tenderly. For Wanda, it was all about the emotional connection, so she’d take the time to research this kind of relationship. She’d even sit you down one evening, and ask you your opinion on this, what you like and don’t like, ensuring everything is consensual and safe. You had told how her you wanted her to be your mommy during bedroom activities and also outside of sex, but you didn’t want it to be as routine as it usually is for people partaking in this. You didn’t want to always call her mommy, just when you were feeling small and needed her to comfort you. She understood immediately, having researched on MDLG as well as other people’s boundaries with the kink. She noted this thought down, a reminder to always be careful and patient during a vulnerable moment like this, making sure she doesn’t mistaken your behaviour as a call sign for this kind of play.

No matter what, she’d want you to feel safe.

Don’t get me wrong, she’d likely be shy about the idea at first, blushing subtly as she tries to have a straightforward conversation with you who was always blushing, but her curiosity and desire to make you happy would win out. She wanted to do this for you—and for her. Plus, the images that would flash through her mind of you underneath her, unable to form coherent sentences as she fucked you silly or the ones of her held you close in her arms, cradling your head as you suckled on her chest helped.

But in practice, Wanda would strike the perfect balance of playful experimentation and her inherently nurturing side. She might even tease you with a flicker of her magic—a gentle red glow brushing against your skin—while whispering those familiar soft reassurances that she loves how good you are for her, and how mommy loves her little girl. Wanda’s ability to multitask with her powers would definitely add a unique layer of creativity, but only in ways you’re both comfortable with and have discussed beforehand.

Ultimately, I think her priority would be your emotional and physical well-being, and she’d by either Wanda, your girlfriend, or Wanda, your mommy, whenever you needed. She’d make it clear that if at any point it became too much or you felt uncertain, you could stop immediately. Or if you needed more from her, more of mommy, you could have her. Always. “You’re my everything,” she’d say, holding you close as she guided your face into the crook of her neck, “and mommy loves you so much.”

#dahlibae fics! ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you

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buttercandy16 · 1 month ago

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Consequences to your Actions

PAIRING(s): Agatha Harkness x Reader, Rio Vidal x Reader

SUMMARY: A woman, betrayed by her wife, embarks on an affair with her boss, Agatha Harkness. Agatha's control leads to a divorce, but when the truth emerges, it’s too late—Agatha will do anything to keep her.

WARNING(s): Infidelity, Manipulation, Obsession, Implied Stalking, Betrayal, Deception, Abuse, Control, Gaslighting, Dub-Con, SMUT, and other Dark themes I forgot to mention.

A/N: The itching need to add Rio even if I'm only writing her as a minor character. Enjoy!

You should’ve known something was wrong the moment Rio started coming home late. At first, she had excuses—work meetings that ran over, urgent deadlines at her law firm, impromptu drinks with colleagues. You didn’t think much of it at first; your own work at Harkness Industries was demanding enough, and you weren’t about to begrudge her the same kind of schedule.

But as the weeks went by, the excuses started to feel hollow. She became distant, absent even when she was physically there. When she kissed you, it was fleeting. When she held you, it felt like her arms were a cage keeping something unspoken inside.

And then there was her phone.

It started buzzing at odd hours—late at night, early in the morning. She was quick to silence it, brushing off your questions with tight-lipped explanations. “It’s just work,” she’d say, or, “You know how chaotic things get this time of year.”

You wanted to believe her. God, you needed to believe her. But the unease festered.

Your life began unraveling on a quiet Tuesday evening. You hadn’t expected it—betrayal rarely came with a warning. As you walked into the apartment, exhausted from work, Rio stood in the kitchen, fiddling with her phone. At first, it seemed innocent, just another moment of routine. But when you greeted her, she flinched, quickly locking the device and shoving it into her pocket.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, your voice soft but tinged with curiosity.

“Nothing.” She gave you a nervous smile, brushing past to put the kettle on. “How was work?”

Her attempt to divert the conversation only made you more suspicious. It wasn’t like her to be evasive. Still, you brushed it off. Maybe you were overthinking things.

But the unease didn’t go away. In fact, it worsened as the days passed.

Late one night, unable to sleep, you saw Rio’s phone buzzing on the nightstand. The name flashing on the screen—"Unknown"—was strange enough. Stranger still was the message preview: “Can’t stop thinking about you. Last night…”

You froze, nausea twisting your stomach. Before you could react, Rio stirred, taking the phone in her hand and quickly silencing it.

“What are you doing?” she mumbled, clearly trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

“Who is this?” you demanded.

“It’s not what it looks like,” she stammered, her voice shaky. “That’s—she’s just a friend. It’s not like that.”

“A friend?” You couldn’t stop the bitter laugh that escaped you. “Who texts their friends last night was amazing?”

She tried to defend herself, but the damage was done. You didn’t believe her. How could you? A message like that wasn’t innocent. Not when it left a dull ache pounding in your chest every time her phone buzzed. That pain, the uncertainty, stuck with you. It hung in the back of your mind at work, bled into your daily routines, and stole your ability to focus on anything else. You stopped going to bed with her. Stopped sharing your dreams or your fears because you weren’t sure if she deserved them anymore.

The seeds of doubt had taken root, and no amount of reassurance could pull them out.

At work, you found no reprieve. If anything, your performance began to suffer. Tasks that once came easily felt impossible to focus on. Meetings dragged on, your mind wandering to the phone calls and late nights that awaited you at home.

And that’s when Agatha Harkness began to notice you.

You’d always admired her from a distance—the way she commanded attention in every room she entered, the sharp confidence in her stride, the cool authority in her voice. As the CEO of Harkness Industries, she was untouchable, her presence as formidable as the empire she’d built.

The sound of heels clicking against the tiled floor broke your spiral of thoughts.

“[Your Last Name],” Agatha said, her smooth, smoky voice cutting through the hum of the nearly empty office. You jumped slightly, not expecting her presence this late. Looking up, you saw her—impeccably dressed, her charcoal-gray suit tailored to fit her tall, sharp frame. Her silver jewelry gleamed in the pale fluorescent lighting. Her presence dominated the room, her piercing blue eyes narrowed on you.

“Is everything alright?” she asked, though the amusement in her tone betrayed her true intentions. Agatha didn’t ask questions unless she already knew the answers.

“Yes, Ms. Harkness,” you replied stiffly, quickly closing your laptop. “Just catching up on some work.”

She leaned against your desk, clearly not buying it. “You’ve been… off lately,” she said, her voice softening ever so slightly, though her usual smirk stayed in place. “If something’s wrong, you can always come to me, you know.”

You hesitated. There was something unnervingly genuine in her tone, but that wasn’t what threw you off. What unsettled you was the realization that her gaze wasn’t just observing you—it was studying you, drinking in every little tell, every weakness.

“Thanks, but it’s personal,” you muttered, reaching for your bag.

She raised an eyebrow, giving you an indulgent smile. “Personal, huh? Let me guess—relationship trouble?”

You froze, your hands stiffening on the strap of your bag. She tilted her head, and for a moment, her smirk softened into something like sympathy. But even then, her eyes glinted with a hunger you didn’t fully understand.

The question caught you off guard, your heart skipping a beat. “What makes you say that?”

She shrugged, leaning against your desk with an air of casual confidence. “Call it intuition. But if there’s something you want to talk about…” She let the sentence trail off, her piercing blue eyes holding yours for a moment too long.

You shook your head, brushing her off with a polite smile. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

But Agatha wasn’t one to let things go so easily.

It started innocently enough. After that conversation, Agatha began to invite you out. Sometimes it was coffee before a morning meeting, other times drinks after hours in her office. At first, you felt awkward accepting her invitations. She was your boss, after all. But you were desperate for a distraction from the storm at home—and she always had a way of drawing you in, her words dripping with charisma.

She began offering casual advice or anecdotes from her life. Before you knew it, she wasn’t just a boss—she was a confidante.

You never meant to open up to her about Rio. It happened one particularly draining night when you were both finishing late meetings. Agatha poured you a drink, her glass already half-empty as she leaned back in her leather office chair.

“Darling, what’s eating at you?” she asked casually, swirling the whiskey in her glass. “You look… burdened.”

It was her words—so precise and unnervingly accurate—that broke something in you. “It’s my wife,” you admitted, staring into your glass. “I think she’s cheating on me.”

Agatha didn’t react immediately. She studied you, her expression unreadable. “Cheating?” she repeated, her tone deliberate. “Or do you know it for a fact?”

You hesitated, recounting the texts, the lies, the evasive behavior. Agatha nodded slowly, her lips curving into a faint smirk. “Sounds like you already know the truth,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “You’re just afraid to admit it.”

Her words hit you harder than you expected. And though you tried to shake it off, Agatha had a way of making the impossible seem logical. She fed into your doubts, her every comment precise and calculated. “She doesn’t deserve you. Not if she could betray you like that.”

Weeks passed, and Agatha grew bolder. She started showing up by your desk during breaks, brushing her hand across yours under the guise of sharing paperwork. She leaned a little too close when she whispered in your ear during meetings, and her compliments shifted from professional to deeply personal.

One night, she invited you to her penthouse.

The space was breathtaking: high ceilings, glittering chandeliers, and an unobstructed view of the city skyline. You felt out of place amidst the luxury, but Agatha made you feel welcome. She poured you wine, teasing you gently about your stiff posture.

“Relax, darling,” she said, her voice low. “This isn’t work. Consider it a treat for all your hard efforts.”

You tried to keep your guard up, but the wine and her proximity eroded your resolve. She was magnetic, her every gesture deliberate and sensual. When she leaned in to brush a strand of hair from your face, you didn’t pull back.

“You know,” Agatha whispered, her lips so close to yours that her breath brushed against your skin, while swirling a glass of Merlot in her other hand, “someone who cheats isn’t worth your time.”

The comment was blunt, almost cruel. You stiffened, staring into your own wineglass. “She says she didn’t cheat,” you said quietly, though even you didn’t sound convinced. “She’s been trying to prove herself, but…”

Agatha clicked her tongue, setting down her glass. Her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your stomach twist. “But she broke your trust,” she said firmly. “That’s not something you can just fix. Trust isn’t some toy you can glue back together once it’s shattered.”

Her words stung because they echoed the feelings you’d been trying to ignore. And yet, there was a strange comfort in her conviction—in the way she made everything sound so clear-cut when your own thoughts were muddied.

Weeks turned into months, and Agatha grew bolder. She started calling you “darling” in private. Her hand lingered on your lower back when she guided you into her office. She’d brush your hair out of your face under the pretense of being “helpful,” though the look in her eyes told a different story.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice. She was beautiful—undeniably so—with an effortless allure that seemed to cloak her every movement. And more than that, she understood you. Agatha didn’t sugarcoat things the way Rio did; she told you what you needed to hear, even if it wasn’t pretty.

The first time it happened, you blamed the wine.

You’d stayed late again in her penthouse. She’d convinced you to let her cook dinner—a surprisingly simple but delicious pasta dish that you ate together at her marble-topped kitchen island. The wine flowed freely, and by the time you were sitting beside her on the couch, your head was spinning.

“You deserve better, you know,” Agatha murmured, her voice low and intimate.

You turned to her, your heart pounding as you realized how close she’d leaned in. “Agatha—”

She cut you off with a kiss, her lips soft but insistent against yours. You froze, your mind racing with a thousand reasons why this was wrong. But when she cupped your face, her thumb brushing against your jaw, reason melted away.

The world seemed to pause in that moment, her lips soft but firm against yours, her hand cradling the back of your neck with possessive ease.

Her kiss deepened, her hand sliding into your hair as she guided you closer. It was overwhelming—the heat of her body against yours, the hunger in her touch, the way she seemed to pour all her intensity into that single act.

When you pulled back, breathless and dazed, she studied you with a small, satisfied smile. “Tell me to stop,” she whispered, her fingers still tangled in your hair.

You didn’t.

“You deserve to be worshipped,” she murmured, her voice husky. Guilt churned in your chest, but as she pulled you closer, kissing you again, it melted into a warmth you hadn’t felt in months.

The affair began in earnest after that night. Agatha was relentless, her touch searing and possessive every time you were alone together. She made you feel things you hadn’t felt in years—desire, adoration, worship.

You knew it was wrong. Every time you returned to Rio, guilt clawed at you, threatening to choke you. But you couldn’t stop. Agatha was a drug, and you were hopelessly addicted.

Her hands were everywhere, tracing the curves of your body as if memorizing every inch of you. Agatha consumed you in ways you hadn’t thought possible, her touch igniting a fire that left you breathless and desperate for more. Her hands were everywhere—pinning you against the cool walls of her penthouse with an intensity that bordered on possessive. Her lips left trails of fire on your skin, her teeth grazing your collarbone as she pulled moans from your throat. She made you feel wanted, consumed, and for the first time in months, alive.

She whispered things in your ear that made your heart race and your cheeks burn, things you’d never heard from Rio.

“You’re mine,” she murmured one night, her voice rough with need as she pinned you against the wall of her penthouse. “No one else gets to touch you like this. No one else deserves you.”

For weeks, you lived a double life.

But the guilt never went away.

“Agatha, I can’t keep doing this,” you said one night, pulling away from her lips with more effort than you thought you could muster. “I feel like I’m drowning in this lie.”

She tilted her head, her fingers brushing against your cheek. “Then come up for air,” she murmured, her voice dripping with reassurance. “You know what you need to do, darling.”

When you still hesitated, her tone sharpened ever so slightly. “She doesn’t love you—not really. If she did, she wouldn’t hurt you like this. She wouldn’t make you feel this… empty.”

Her words were surgical, cutting away your last shreds of resistance. Before you could stop yourself, you found solace in her arms again.

When you tried to end it a second time, Agatha didn’t take it lightly.

“You think you can just walk away?” she said, her voice eerily calm as she cornered you in her office after hours. “After everything?”

Her eyes burned into yours, her intensity both terrifying and magnetic. “I know you feel guilty, but what you have with me? It’s real. It’s worth the risk.”

She leaned in, her lips grazing your ear. “And you want it, don’t you?”

Your heart pounded as her words sank in. She was right. No matter how much you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t stay away.

Eventually, she began to push harder.

“You need to leave her,” Agatha said one night, lying beside you in bed. Her fingertips ghosted along your arm, her lips brushing against your shoulder as she spoke. “She doesn’t deserve you, and we both know it.”

“I don’t know if I can,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

She cupped your face, forcing you to meet her gaze. “Yes, you can. I’ll be here, darling. You don’t need her.”

Her words echoed in your head long after you left her apartment. The divorce papers sat on the kitchen table for weeks before you finally signed them. Rio cried when she found out.

“You’re making a mistake,” she pleaded, clutching your hands. “I didn’t cheat. I swear to you.”

But Agatha’s voice drowned hers out: “She’s lying. She’ll only hurt you again.”

After the divorce, your relationship with Agatha became official. The media marveled at her whirlwind romance with a “mystery employee,” and you found yourself thrust into the public eye —lavish dinners, expensive gifts, and a wedding straight out of a magazine spread. And yet, something felt… off.

Rio didn’t disappear. She called, sent emails, even showed up at your doorstep one day, begging you to listen.

“She’s manipulating you,” Rio said, her voice trembling with desperation. “She planned this. She’s dangerous, and you can’t see it because she’s in your head.”

You slammed the door in her face, brushing away the small seed of doubt her words planted. Agatha loved you—didn’t she? She couldn’t have orchestrated everything.

It was a rainy night when you found the folder. Agatha had left for a business meeting, and in a moment of idle curiosity, you opened the drawer of her desk. Photos of you—some from months ago, others dating back to years before you’d even started working for her. Copies of emails supposedly from Rio, doctored to look incriminating.

Your stomach dropped as realization dawned.

She’d planned this. All of it. Agatha had orchestrated everything, from planting those damning messages to pulling you closer into her orbit.

“You’ve been busy,” Agatha’s voice startled you. She stood in the doorway of her home office, her eyes unreadable.

“How could you?” you demanded, clutching the folder. “You lied. You manipulated me. You destroyed my life—my marriage—all because you’re obsessed with me?”

Her expression didn’t falter. If anything, she looked amused. “I didn’t destroy your life,” she said calmly, stepping closer. “I saved you.”

“You ruined everything,” you spat, backing away.

She closed the distance between you in an instant, her hand grabbing your wrist in a vice grip. “I gave you everything,” she hissed, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Everything you have is because of me.”

Panic surged through you. “Agatha, you’re scaring me—”

She softened instantly, her hand loosening but not releasing you. “Oh, sweetheart,” she cooed, her voice dripping with mock tenderness. “You don’t need to be scared. I’d never hurt you.”

Her smile turned sharp. “But if you ever try to leave me, I can’t promise things won’t get… messy.”

Agatha’s grip on your wrist tightened, her nails digging into your skin just enough to make you wince. Her lips curled into a predatory smile, her eyes dark with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine. “You think you can just walk away from me?” she purred, her voice low and dangerous. “After everything I’ve done for you? After everything I’ve given you?”

You tried to pull away, but she was stronger than she looked. Her other hand snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against her body. You could feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her blouse, the hard press of her breasts against yours. “Agatha, let me go,” you pleaded, your voice trembling.

She laughed, a low, throaty sound that made your stomach twist. “Oh, darling, you don’t really want me to let you go, do you?” she whispered, her lips brushing against your ear. “You’ve always been mine. You just needed a little… persuasion.”

Her hand slid down your back, cupping your ass and squeezing hard. You gasped, your body betraying you as a jolt of heat shot through you. “Stop,” you whispered, but your voice lacked conviction.

Agatha’s lips found yours, her kiss fierce and demanding. She didn’t ask for permission; she took what she wanted, her tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You moaned despite yourself, your body responding to her touch even as your mind screamed at you to push her away.

She broke the kiss, her breath hot against your lips. “You’re mine,” she growled, her hands moving to the buttons of your blouse. “Every inch of you belongs to me.”

You tried to protest, but she silenced you with another kiss, her fingers deftly undoing the buttons and pushing the fabric off your shoulders. Her hands roamed over your bare skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. “You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her lips trailing down your neck. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Her hands found your breasts, her thumbs brushing over your nipples, making them harden instantly. You gasped, your body arching into her touch. “Agatha,” you moaned, your resolve crumbling.

She smirked, her hands moving to the waistband of your skirt. “That’s it, darling,” she purred, pushing the fabric down your legs. “Let me take care of you.”

You stepped out of your skirt, your body trembling with anticipation. Agatha’s eyes raked over you, her gaze hungry and possessive. “Perfect,” she whispered, her hands sliding down your thighs. “You’re perfect.”

She dropped to her knees, her hands spreading your legs apart. You gasped as her tongue flicked against your clit, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through you. “Agatha,” you moaned, your hands tangling in her hair.

She didn’t respond, her tongue working its magic as she devoured you. You could feel the heat building inside you, your body responding to her every touch. “Oh god,” you whimpered, your hips bucking against her mouth.

Agatha’s hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as she continued to pleasure you. You could feel yourself getting closer, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. “Come for me, darling,” she murmured, her voice muffled against your skin.

You cried out as the orgasm hit you, your body convulsing with pleasure. Agatha didn’t stop, her tongue lapping at you until you were trembling and weak. She stood up, a satisfied smirk on her lips. “That’s my girl,” she purred, pulling you into a kiss.

You could taste yourself on her lips, the taste of your own arousal on Agatha's lips sent a thrill through you, even as a small part of you recoiled at the intensity of the situation. But Agatha didn't give you time to overthink it. Her hands were on your body again, caressing and claiming every inch of skin as she backed you towards the bed.

You fell onto the plush comforter, Agatha's weight pinning you down a moment later. She straddled your hips, her eyes dark with lust as she looked down at you. "You're mine," she repeated, her voice rough with desire. "Say it."

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear and excitement warring within you. But as Agatha ground her hips against yours, you felt yourself giving in. "I'm yours," you breathed, your voice barely audible.

Agatha smiled, a wicked glint in her eye.

"Louder," she demanded, her hand wrapping around your throat. Not enough to cut off your air, but enough to make you feel owned, possessed.

"I'm yours," you repeated, louder this time.

"I'm yours, Agatha."

Her grip tightened for a brief moment before she released you, her hand trailing down your body to your breasts. She cupped them roughly, her thumbs brushing over your nipples. "Good girl," she purred, leaning down to take one into her mouth.

You arched into her touch, moaning as her tongue swirled around the sensitive bud. Her other hand moved between your legs, fingers teasing your still-sensitive clit. "You're so wet for me," she murmured against your skin. "So responsive."

She continued her ministrations, alternating between your breasts and your core. Your body was on fire, every touch sending sparks of pleasure through you. You were panting, writhing beneath her, desperate for more.

"Please," you whimpered, not even sure what you were begging for. Agatha seemed to understand, though. She withdrew her hand, leaving you bereft for a moment before she shifted her hips.

You felt the head of her strap on press against your entrance, and you gasped.

Agatha was large, larger than anyone you'd been with before. She paused, giving you a moment to adjust. "Breathe," she instructed, her voice calm and soothing despite the hunger in her eyes.

You did as she said, taking a deep breath as she slowly pushed inside you. The stretch was intense, bordering on painful, but it wasn't long before your body relaxed, accommodating her size. She filled you completely, her hips pressed flush against yours.

"Fuck," Agatha groaned, her head falling forward. "You feel incredible."

She gave you a moment to adjust before she began to move. Slowly at first, her hips rolling against yours in a steady rhythm. But as your moans filled the room, she grew bolder, her thrusts becoming harder, faster.

Your hands clawed at her back, your nails digging into her skin as she pounded into you. The pleasure was overwhelming, every stroke of her cock sending shockwaves through your body. You could feel another orgasm building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

"Come for me," Agatha growled, her hips snapping against yours. "Come on my cock like the good little slut you are."

Her filthy words pushed you over the edge. You came with a scream, your body convulsing beneath hers. Agatha followed shortly after, watching you come undone was enough for her to find her own release.

She collapsed on top of you, both of you panting and sweat-slicked. For a moment, you lay there in silence, the only sound your ragged breaths filling the room.

But as the haze of pleasure began to dissipate, reality started to set in. Agatha had manipulated you, planned everything from the beginning. She had destroyed your marriage, ruined your life—all for her own twisted desires.

A lump formed in your throat, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Agatha must have sensed the change in you, because she pulled back, her gaze searching your face.

"Talk to me," she urged, her voice soft but insistent. "What's wrong?"

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. You pushed at her chest, trying to make her release you. "Let me go," you whispered, your voice breaking.

Agatha's expression hardened. She didn't move, her body still pinning you to the bed. "No," she said simply, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You're mine now. I won't let you go."

Panic surged through you. You struggled against her, your heart pounding in your chest. "Please," you begged, your voice rising in pitch. "I can't do this. I can't be with you."

Agatha's grip tightened on your wrists, her face inches from yours. "You don't have a choice," she hissed, her eyes flashing with anger. "You're mine, and I always get what I want."

You felt the tears spill over, running down your cheeks and into your hair. You were trapped—trapped by Agatha's obsession, trapped by your own weakness. You had let yourself fall for her manipulations, for the thrill of being wanted so desperately.

Now, there was no escape.

Weeks turned into months, and you fell deeper into Agatha's grasp.

She isolated you from everyone—your friends, your family. If anyone tried to contact you, she intercepted their calls, their messages. She told them you were busy, that you needed space to focus on your new life with her.

And you let her.

Because what choice did you have? Agatha had all the power. She controlled every aspect of your life—where you went, what you did, who you saw. And if you tried to resist, she punished you.

At first, the punishments were subtle—a sharp look, a harsh word. But as time passed, they grew more severe. She would leave you locked in a room for hours, ignoring your pleas and sobs. She would confiscate your phone, your laptop—anything that could connect you to the outside world.

Once, when you tried to sneak out to meet Rio, Agatha found out. She dragged you back home by your hair, slamming you against the wall hard enough to leave bruises.

"You belong to me," she snarled, her face inches from yours. "I won't let you leave me."

That was the day you knew there was no escape. Not really. You were trapped in this gilded cage, a prisoner to Agatha's twisted desires.

And still, part of you craved her touch, her attention. Even as she hurt you, she made you feel alive. She made you believe that everything she did was out of love—that she needed you as much as you needed her.

It was a sick, twisted cycle—one that left you feeling lost, broken, and hopelessly addicted to the woman who had shattered your life.

You knew then that you were trapped. Rio had tried to warn you, but it was too late. Agatha had you in her web, and there was no escaping now.

The city lights glittered below as you stared out the window of her penthouse, feeling more like a prisoner than a partner. Somewhere deep down, you resolved to find a way out. But one look at Agatha’s cold, calculating smile told you that escape would come at a cost you weren’t sure you could pay.

_-_-_

Please don't forger to vote, reblog, and comment.

Happy New Year my Twisted Darlings!

#dark fanfiction #agatha all along #agathario #rio vidal #agatha harkness #agatha harkness fanfic #kathryn hahn #marvel #aubrey plaza #dark!agatha harkness #yandere #agatha coven of chaos #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #rio vidal x reader

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bokunoheros · 4 months ago

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TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab, reader and kiri are childhood friends to lovers, reader and kiri are in their 3rd yr (meaning they are 18+), uhhh raw sex but reader is on birth control so it’s okay, hand holding, uhm idk what else this is just rlly vanilla and sweet GENRE: smut & fluff SUMMARY: you and your boyfriend have sex for the first time. WORD COUNT: 952 🦊’s A/N: oh how i love you eijirou…

“eiji…” you whine, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“shh,” he coos down at you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “we can still stop, pretty,” he offers you an out.

right now, you and your boyfriend of four months, and best friend since… forever, really, were about to have actual sex for the first time ever. not just getting fingered or eaten out, or sucking him off real nice. the real deal. one particularly hot n’ heavy makeout/heavy petting session led to another, and now here you were, naked beneath him in his bed, already having been fingered to one orgasm.

the leaky tip of his almost painfully hard cock is aligned with you slick entrance, and he has to bite his bottom lip in anticipation of your answer. he’s ready to pull away should you say no, as that’s what a real man would do—respect someone’s boundaries, even if it might physically pain him to do so. but!! much to his pleasure, you’re quick to shake your head no.

“no! …no, please— i want to so bad,” you tell him, and he groans at your words, silently thanking any gods who might be listening. “i need you, eijirou, please.” you crane your neck up to press a kiss to his spit soaked lips.

he quickly reciprocates your affections as he slowly starts to push into you, something that takes great restraint because holy shit—you felt so good! but, as all real men do, he prioritizes your comfort over his; an act that has him whining incoherently as he tries to take his time for your sake.

you can’t help but moan at the stretch—goddamn, was your boyfriend hung!—legs wrapping around his hips, crossing at the ankle, to pull him closer, and eijirou thinks he might lose his mind.

it doesn’t take long for him to bottom out, pelvis pressing flush against yours as he simply basks in your warmth for a moment—letting you both adjust to the foreign feelings.

“mmh, fuck, please move, kiri—need’a feel you s’bad,” you moan, rolling your hips up in attempt to persuade him—not that it was necessary, though; eijirou was doing his absolute best to not start pounding into you, but with your confirmation that he could move, he starts rolling his hips slowly into yours, biting his bottom lip as his dick twitches deep inside you.

“fuckfuckfuck—” he babbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “shit, baby, y’feel s’good!” his voice is whiny and his breath hitches in his throat as his hips stutter, unable to find a pace or rhythm that felt right.

“nnmgh–!” you’re both whiny messes and eijirou ruts into you with sloppy restraint as his hands seek out your own in order to intertwine them and pin them gently above your head as his body presses against yours, and you feel secure under his weight.

kissing along your neck, you moan softly when eijirou’s teeth brush over your skin and he takes notice of the goosebumps that rise as a result. did you… like that?

nibbling as gently as he can at the junction of your neck and shoulder, you arch your back, pressing your chest into his, at the feeling, and a quiet harder slips past your lips.

kirishima isn’t sure whether you’re talking about him biting you, or the speed at which his hips move, so rather than ask and potentially ruin the moment, he bites down just a bit harder, being extraordinarily mindful of his shark-like teeth, as he begins to rut into you with more force than before.

this was far from what could be considered fucking, though, as he did everything with such a passion and tenderness for you, that this could only be described as making love.

“mmmh,” you hum pleasantly when the tip of his girthy cock brushes against your g-spot, and you can’t contain the little moan that slips past your lips. “right there, baby—don’ stop,” you gasp, giving his hands a squeeze as you roll your hips up to meet his.

“yeah? shit—” he pulls away from your neck to plant a sloppy kiss to your lips, tongue wasting no time in darting out and into your welcoming mouth as you squeeze his significantly larger hands while your own tongue eagerly plays with his. the two hot, wet muscles swirl around each other, and your teeth clack slightly as he tries tilting his head a little more to the side for a better angle.

he hums into the kiss as a little bit of drools begins to pool out from the corners of his mouth—eijirou wasn’t always a messy kisser, but it definitely wasn’t an uncommon occurrence either. for what it was worth, he generally preferred to kiss sloppy style, but he certainly understood if you weren’t the type who appreciated an excess of tongue and spit, but…. sometimes.. he just can’t help himself! he always gets so excited around you!! and what better way to express that than by kissing you until you’re breathless?

“fuck i love you s’much,” he murmurs against your kiss swollen lips before he starts to suck on your tongue and his swollen tip presses against your g-spot.

his words make your heart feel full and you whimper quietly in response, waiting until you both have to break away for air in order to reciprocate what he had said.

“love ya too, eijirou—more than you’ll ever know,” you tell him, panting heavily as his hips steadily move against yours, working you both up to your first orgasm of the night, where you two would cum in sync with a shared cry of pleasure—kirishima even tearing up from how good it felt.

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maacbrem · 3 months ago

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Absolutely insane about the Thelyss brothers in Vasselheim cause like

Essek the Bright Queen is RIGHT THERE SIR PLEASE - but then, so is his brother, his little brother he probably still thinks of as a child because they were allowed to be children so briefly before anamnesis failed to come and they had to make something of themselves as new souls in an ancient Den, and Verin is the youngest Taskhand of Bazzoxan and a highly accomplished Echo Knight but he’s going to war??? Against aliens and would-be god killers and Ludinus Da’leth???? And Essek is a heretic fugitive and selfish to his bones, but he loved his brother even when he didn’t think he was capable of love at all, even if he wasn’t very good at it. So he stays in Vasselheim and he makes sure that these strange, awe-inspiring legendary heroes know his brother’s face, his voice, his armour, so that maybe if he falls one of them will deign to pick him up. He thinks about his friends, far from him now (Caleb, out of his reach and likely preparing to do something reckless but too brilliant to be called foolish), and looks at his brother, who will also go, who might never come back.

And Verin??? The youngest son of his Den, the second new soul prodigy by necessity who never really understood his brother but loved him anyway, who mourned their father so hard that he tried to become him by throwing himself against the endless hordes of the Hells, who now answers the call of all the gods and Exandria itself to fight a war with impossible odds, offering himself and his soldiers as potential cannon fodder so that the legendary heroes of the age might emerge victorious? I need to know how long he’s known what Essek did (because I know that Essek confessed and part of him hoped that Verin would condemn him, his righteous, devoted brother), and I need to know if Essek faked his death or just vanished, and I need to know if Verin wept for him. Verin who loves his people and his country and his god, who believes in things like faith and loyalty because he’s never really had cause not to, who has to find a way to believe in his brother, too. He learns to recognize this Archivist disguise and a few others that Essek favours, and he stops referring to his brother by name ever just so he doesn’t forget at the wrong moment, and he carries the beat-up booklet of Ashari poetry that he first learned to read Common from that still has child-Essek’s penmanship in the margins and he thinks about how seasons change and how winter doesn’t really kill, it just rests, and the process of a butterfly’s metamorphosis isn’t really that far off from the Luxon’s decree to become your ever-bettering self.

Essek doesn’t say “come back” but he does say “fight smart” and Verin knows what he means. Verin wraps him in a spine-cracking bear hug, uncomfortable in his armour but Essek has gotten better about physical affection in the past few years and one day Verin intends to thank the Mighty Nein personally for that. Verin says “stay sharp” and then quieter he says “i’ll see you again” and Essek hears ‘in this life or the next’ and he very calmly and sanely doesn’t start screaming, but he does press a pearl to Verin’s forehead (Caleb’s variation of the somatics, a useless bit of sentimentality made powerful that Essek adores). And then they have to part ways before Verin rejoins the Kryn contingent and Essek disappears back into the crowd, two brothers finally on the same side but unable to stand together.

Anyway, I think they’re neat.

#text #critical role #critical role spoilers #c3 #c3e113 #essek thelyss #verin thelyss #my fic #sort of #i love them a lot y’all i’m not normal and i’m not okay #op

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planetaryupscaled · 8 months ago

Text

Tutoring 2: Hall Pass

Male Reader x Park Sooyoung (Joy)

Tags: 9k, age-gap, cheating, creampie, cuckold

The story is not ours; we simply alter the original story to our preferred settings.

“So you’re not mad?” Sooyoung asked her husband as they sat down at the kitchen table... the same place where I’ve had my way with her so many times.

“I don’t think I am,” Hyoseob answered, truthfully.

He tried to imagine what it would have been like for me and Sooyoung in the school shower, and then in the car. He tried to picture her glistening pussy lips around my throbbing dick, and how I licked and caressed her dear wife. How much better was it that his dutiful wife chose infidelity not once, but twice. She cheated, willingly, despites of the rules, and this thought made his loins burn. Sooyoung was behaving like a wanton slut, which was in stark contrast to her prideful personality.

Among all the rules broken, the rule about it being recorded was the only one he truly hoped she would follow. But deep down, he wanted her to break the rules over and over again, and he only wanted to watch. He had that burning desire, but he couldn’t admit it, especially to Sooyoung.

“I don’t like admitting it, but he makes it kinda hard to resist,” Sooyoung stated, averting her gaze. “He’s so much different from what you think he’d be. His thrusts are so deliberate and so skillfully measured and confident. It makes me so-” she said, unable to finish her sentence.

“Like just that one shower,” she rambled on, “I have no idea why I was so... receptive of his touch! I didn’t have it in mind to cheat at all and... suddenly it was already happening. I’m sorry, but his lips and his hands were so-”

Sooyoung stopped again. Her hands started fidgeting. The guilt was palpable, dripping from her words. Hyoseob had to make sure she was okay. He knew it was selfish, but he wanted to witness it himself, to see his wife being plowed like a wanton slut.

“Minho kissed you?” He probed. “Tell me.”

“Yes, well,” Sooyoung blushed and shrugged, “it was more intense and... amazing.”

“You kiss him back?” He asked again.

“A lot, actually. And... our tongues too,” she whispered in reply.

She was telling him everything, how it was just intense, amazing sex, that my abilities and stamina far outweighed his, but it was also just physical pleasure with no emotional attachment or love. Sooyoung swore to her husband that I meant nothing to her. He had to talk her into another meeting with me, this time with the recorder.

“Sounds like Minho has a fan,” He teased Sooyoung, but his tone gave him away. His heart pounded with both anxiety and excitement. Sooyoung cherished sex, and now she had shared it with someone other than him.

“Oh shut up,” Sooyoung said, but with a smile just lingering under the surface.

“So, what was the thing he said again?” Hyoseob asked.

“Yeah,” Sooyoung admitted as Hyoseob laid on top of her, “he said something like... ‘I’ll fuck you whenever I want.’” Her imitation of it was less than flattering.

“You want that?” Hyoseob dared to ask, excited at the idea of his lovely wife being taken against her will, during dubious consent, thrust into a willing participant by the magnificent skill of someone else.

“Maybe...” she purred, urging him to move his hips. Her admission sent shockwaves through him, as guilt and jealousy drove him deeper into his wife.

“And, ah, you wanted him to knock you up?” He asked, going a bit faster.

“Hyoseob, it was j-just talk,” Sooyoung purred. “I was just stroking his ego. But it worked. He cum so much inside me.”

“Yeah?” He panted.

“Yeah, babe.” she breathed. “So much. So thick, it clung to me.”

His breathing quickened as his mind conjured the image of Sooyoung sprawled beneath someone else in her car, in a damn near public parking lot. It didn’t take him long to cum deep inside her, unable to resist her words and description. She was more turned on by her cheating than he could have ever hoped for, so he told her that they needed it again and more. With the promise of more, they both fell into a deep slumber.

—

“I think we should stick with handjobs... reinforce the rules.,” Sooyoung suggested to her husband as she had scheduled another ‘Tutoring’ with me after school on Tuesday, but she was having second thoughts, wanting to reestablish the control they had lost. “I don’t think I want to have sex... with Minho again.”

“What?” Hyoseob asked, not believing his wife. “You’re joking,” He added. “If I sent you over there right now, you really think you’d only jerk him off?”

“Yeah?” Sooyoung answered unconvincingly.

He gave her a wry smile. “Then do it,” he said. “I’m giving you a hall pass to prove me wrong.” You haven’t done any ‘tutoring’ this week anyway.”

“Babe!” Sooyoung exclaimed, taken aback. “I can’t do that. It’s against the rules. And we were having this week off, remember?”

“That’s the point of a hall pass,” He chuckled, excited to see his wife relent. “Besides, you’d only be jerking him off, right? That’s well within the rules, even if it’s a hall pass.”

Sooyoung didn’t respond right away. She closed her eyes, trying not to be tempted by the challenge. It was as though she was afraid, afraid that she would succumb and more, prove him right in doing so.

“Don’t... don’t tempt me,” she said, finally. “Minho knows how to bend a girl to his will, honey.” She then cringed at her choice of words.

“Which is?” Hyoseob asked with a wide, hopeful smile.

She looked at him and then out into space. A smile spread across her lips, and her hand moved to his thigh.

“Just remember to record,” he said.

“Hey, I didn’t say I’m going over,” Sooyoung shot back, gently punching him with her other hand. “Remember, he got inside me last week, despite the rules. Twice, even. It’s... hard to resist him.”

“You said as much earlier,” He reminded.

“Yeah, he just feels amazing and does things that-” Sooyoung began before correcting herself. “…never mind.”

“That I can’t do?” Hyoseob said, finishing her sentence. Sooyoung’s silence spoke volumes, she took a breath, steadying her nerves. Then her eyes flashed in his direction, a devious expression growing.

“Okay,” Sooyoung said, “I’ll go, to prove you wrong.”

—

‘Im coming over,’ Sooyoung wrote, and soon after I met her once again at this house, and let her in through the back door. As it wasn’t conspicuous enough that Hyoseob’s wife snuck hurriedly across the street, looking up and down the street to make sure no one noticed.

“What about your parents?” Sooyoung whispered.

“Away, they usually are during the weekends,” I reassured, ushering her to their bedroom.

When we got through the door, I began feeling her up, eagerly ravaging her curvaceous yet trim body. Sooyoung initially did not react because she was unsure what to do. As my hands found their way to her soft, round ass, she began responding by kissing back with even more hunger. My fingers dug hungrily into the flesh hidden by her tight spandex pants. The ass she kept in shape for her husband. She hadn’t worn underwear, but she sure could feel my fingers running up and down her cheeks and inner thighs. Sooyoung spread them out, inviting me to go deeper.

Instead of shoving my fingers into her clothed fabric, I pushed her down onto the bed. My hands slid into the waistband and rolled her pants up her long legs. She lifted her hips as I tugged, letting the spandex to roll along with her panties.

“I can’t believe it’s been a week already,” I said, quickly removing her pink, silky, patterned top, revealing her round, fat tits, and tossing it over her other clothes.

“Damn, your tits look fucking nice,”

Sooyoung smiled as I stared at her body, groping and rubbing her left breast. My thick, erect member was tenting in my sweats. I pressed her tits together, climbed on top of her, and began licking all over them.

‘This is getting out of control,’ she thought. “C’mon, Minho,” Sooyoung whispered, pushing me to get my attention. Instead of slowing down, I licked and sucked her soft, creamy neck. “Minho… oh shit,” she whimpered, goosebumps rushing through her.

At some point, I must have angled my sweats down, because Sooyoung felt my swollen cock press against her opening, threatening entry. Her slit, wet with arousal, opened for me as I began sliding into this lovely wife.

“Unnnng,” Sooyoung groaned, helplessly succumbing to my touch, her pussy aching with anticipation.

It forces Sooyoung to admit her pleasure. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation. Sooyoung moaned in satisfaction, wrapping her arms tightly around my shoulders and neck. She knew her husband couldn’t compete in length, width, or technique, but feeling my size stretch and touch places that were severely under-stimulated brought her to new heights.

“I thought we were waiting till Tuesday,” I hummed as I lowered myself and dove into her neck once more. My cock slid almost completely into her tight warm hole, and my movements became quick, fluid motions that allowed me to pull almost completely out before driving deep inside.

“We were... ohhh,” Sooyoung groaned.

I was prepared to stretch, ruin, and ravish her, and all she planned was a handjob? The absurdity made her smile as she ran her fingernails up and down my back, enjoying the sensation of her tight pussy being stretched wide by someone that’s not her husband.

“Couldn’t wait, huh?” I teased.

“Hyoseob dared me to come over here and just jerk you off,” Sooyoung admitted, smiling up at me with a light sheen of sweat.

“How did that go?” I asked cheekily.

“Shut up,” Sooyoung smiled, squeezing me between her walls.

“Fuu-uck,” I groaned, shuffling my hips between her legs. “Nngg, you’re really gonna let me knock you up someday, aren’t you?”

“Hnnng, you keep that up and, oh god, maybe I will,” she gasped.

“Really? You like this cock knocking up your womb?” I pressed.

“Oh fuck,” Sooyoung hissed.

Sooyoung was getting increasingly vocal, moans of delight sounding out throughout the empty house as I kept slamming into her. My eyes were fixed on the beautiful teacher’s exposed breasts, rolling and flopping back and forth every time my body touched hers. Her nails clawed my back, and I grunted, feeling her walls tighten with each thrust. Her slickened insides massaging my dick, preparing for the next load...

I felt the cum start to boil over and surge to the end of my shaft. My cock was throbbing madly within her until it began releasing its hot fluids. I kept pumping, squirting over and over as I closed my eyes in satisfaction. Sooyoung felt her cunt ripple and pulse with each eruption. Her own juices flowed around the spewing shaft, coating my cock and dripping in a pool on the sheets under her.

I looked down at her. Her beautiful cheeks were flushed red and glistened with sweat. I pulled her head closer, pressing my forehead against hers, hanging low and grazing her face as I buried my softening dick in her womb, hoping to delay leaving her silky depths. She still moaned, feeling a gentle pumping within her. Sooyoung sighed, and we kissed.

—

Hyoseob smirked knowingly when his disheveled wife finally came through the door later that evening. Sooyoung didn’t even try to hide the slight waddle she’d acquired from the fucking, which made him snort a little laugh. She responded with a defiant glare, challenging him.

“We shouldn’t fool around with hall passes,” Sooyoung muttered, chuckling lightly.

“Did you record?”

“Not the first time...” Sooyoung said, a crooked smile creasing her face as she looked at him.

“How many times...” Hyoseob asked, trailing off. Sooyoung had been over there for two hours.

“How many...” she stalled. “Erm, three. Plus some foreplay here and there...”

“You slut!” He chided with a big grin.

“It’s your fault!” Sooyoung shot back. “Besides, how could you dare send him over there in the first place?!”

Hyoseob was as hard as a stone when he heard the news. Sooyoung pretended to be mad, but it was clear she enjoyed the whole experience.

“So… can we watch together?” He asked, hoping to experience some of his wife’s deviousness together.

“Oh yes, just make sure to hit ‘fast forward’ to skip all the dumb and unnecessary things. Minho was trying so hard to get me to clean his cock or whatever, but hell if I’m ever taking his dirty thing into my mouth... especially after sex... It smelled of us for gods’ sake.”

Hyoseob patted the seat beside him on the couch, inviting her to join him, but Sooyoung hesitated.

“Here?” she asked, rendering him a bit confused.

“Yeah? You’ve done stuff with Minho here, so what’s the big deal?”

“Nothing. You’re right,” Sooyoung decided and plopped down beside him.

She took the phone from her bag, a seductive smile on her face. It was clear the experience had opened a door Sooyoung hadn’t really anticipated. Now his wife seemed to be warming up to the idea of being intimate with another person, even if it was pure sex.

“So, before we watch this, we need to talk about the rules,” Sooyoung declared.

“Oh, come on!” He pouted.

“No, listen. I want the rules. The rules were: you need to be able to watch, you need to be able to say no, no intercourse, and once a week. We’ve broken all of them more or less. I told Minho before He left that we needed to abide by the rules from now on, that this evening was an exception. He can’t just fuck me whenever he wants... and vice versa I guess,” Sooyoung said.

“Abide by the rules from now on? Including ‘no intercourse’?” He asked. Sooyoung blushed at that.

“Well... I kinda thought you didn’t mind if we left that rule out from now on,” she said, somewhat shyly.

Sooyoung made a very strong point. Not one he had expected from her, either. Not just the sex rule, but generally. It was necessary to have some control over these things. Minho’s effect on her had become quite apparent. It was sex without consequences, and great sex at that. As a guy, he could relate. But her suggesting to snip that rule seemed so... it was just much more impactful.

“I think you have a point,” He agreed. “It was something that was out of our control, but now that the heat of the moment is over, it makes sense.”

Sooyoung smiled her response, but Hyoseob had a question.

“Just now, you didn’t want to watch the video on the couch. And before, you let Minho do you from behind, something you never let me. Is this a theme I’m sensing? Does Minho get to do stuff that I don’t? Like...” He trailed off, and his eyes shifted, staring intensely into hers.

“Well, yeah...” Sooyoung replied. “Isn’t that what you wanted though?”

Hyoseob gulped, realizing she was right. It was part of it, for him to give her experiences, he never could. He hadn’t thought that would mean ‘experiences he never would’, though perhaps not with such emphasis on ‘never’.

Sooyoung having experiences with others that should have been reserved for her husband, and then denying him the same liberties, was the ultimate tease. Sooyoung’s exploration of her sexuality with men other than him was an incredible thrill.

“I mean, yeah.” He relented and admitted.

“Good,” she purred. “Wanna watch me get fucked from behind?”

Sooyoung wasn’t shy of cursing, but hearing her put it so bluntly, combined with his knowledge that she was going to willingly cheat and break their wedding vows for some kid, sent a sharp heat straight to his balls. He’d never seen his wife like this, and she was irresistible.

“I want everything.” Hyoseob declared.

She giggled at that. She looked amazing. She was absolutely radiant; sexy, confident, and free. Sooyoung looked at him tenderly and lovingly, a sweet, promising look that only served to stir the building excitement and burning arousal.

There were three videos in total. One shorter, and two longer.

“We’ll probably have to save the last one for a rainy day,” she teased sensually in his ear, her hand trailing down onto his slack-covered bulge.

The first one showed Minho’s point of view of Sooyoung on her back, topless and with his massive cock between her breasts. She rubbed them up and down, looking up with desire and lust as his veiny appendage emerged and disappeared between her magnificent bosom. Hyoseob loins flared up as He was able to appreciate the sexual play at such close range and with Sooyoung’s large, firm orbs being groped and abused so well. Minho really knew how to push a woman’s buttons, he thought. It didn’t take long before his semen erupted from its tip, splattering over his wife’s chin, cheeks, and nose...

“He’s so virile... he gets hard again so fast... perks of being a young stud, I guess,” Sooyoung muttered. Hyoseob quickly shoved his pants down so she could get better access to his raging erection.

She was right when she said they’d probably save the last one, because He doubted he’d last all the way through the second video. The one Sooyoung hinted that she got fucked from behind. A view he never had.

Sooyoung clicked the video and resumed stroking him.

The angle on the video showed Sooyoung naked silhouette cascaded by the dimly lit room. Sooyoung, hands against the wall, presenting her fat ass.

“Ohh that looks like an ass that’s had some workouts,” Minho said from behind the phone’s lens.

“Less chatting and more pounding,” Sooyoung’s voice called from the dark.

Minho placed the phone on what Hyoseob guess was a dresser, facing the camera towards the back of his bent-over wife, her perfect figure illuminated perfectly by the nearby light, a tantalizing silhouette that invited and begged to be pounded. Minho’s hulking frame stepped close and shoved himself roughly into her waiting slit.

“Oh... oh-oh!” Sooyoung moaned, her hands suddenly clenching and gripping tighter against the wall, her hips twitching. “Harder. Fuck!” she begged.

Hyoseob turned his eyes from the video screen towards the same body parts, seeing the same hips on the couch next to him that Minho was grasping on the video as he fucked his lovely wife. Sooyoung noticed, her smile deepening. The sound of bodies slapping echoed from the device. Minho growled, grasping her tighter and pulling her to him as his hips rocked and pummeled his wife’s magnificent ass. Sooyoung’s large ass was quivering with the impacts and bounced, the flesh wobbling back and forth hypnotically. Minho fucked her mercilessly, relentlessly, hammering her from behind, but with deliberate purpose. Sooyoung started making a high-pitched sound. He had never seen her so receptive.

“Jesus, you really like that, huh?” Hyoseob breathed. Minho was fucking his wife so roughly.

Sooyoung merely nodded, as if embarrassed, turning her face to hide in the seat cushions. Minho grabbed and pulled her arms, pushing her back against him with a forceful thrust, burying his entire length deep inside her. Sooyoung’s walls trembled around him, squeezing his giant girth, wanting more. Minho eased most of his shaft out before plowing slowly, churning her insides with his cock, giving her a moment of relief. But it was temporary and she shuddered once again, clamping down and throbbing around the huge length.

“Unnnggh- Unnnng- Unnng,” she let out with each long, hard thrust.

Hyoseob’s eyes bulged as he watched his wife cum on another man’s cock, knowing she was experiencing something He could never give her to that extent.

“God! Harder! HARDER!” Sooyoung cried, and just like that Hyoseob came to the sounds of Minho fucking his wife better than He ever could.

“Christ!” the present Sooyoung said, sounding somewhat disgusted as his cum trickled over her hand. “You could’ve said something! I’d gotten a towel!”

Sooyoung rose up and headed off to the nearest bedroom to clean her hand.

—

Sooyoung couldn’t really concentrate the following day. A few times, she caught herself staring off into space, thinking of how nice Minho’s long, thick cock felt when he was on top of her, pummeling her body. But she had to go the entire weekend, and then some, before she could have it again. In her mind, that was simply too long a time to wait to get off like she did last night.

But it wasn’t just sex that had her brain distracted. The conversation with Hyoseob had gotten Sooyoung thinking of all sorts of dirty, taboo ideas. Hyoseob had admitted he liked it when she did things with Minho, such as exploring new things. Giving up some of her firsts for Minho, even. Like doggy, or a fucking her tits. She wasn’t sure what that entailed, or what she could do with that information, but she stored it away in her mind.

Sooyoung spent the rest of the weekend running track, lifting weights, and other physical activities to force her life back into normalcy, in addition to her school work. She decided she didn’t want sex to dictate her life, so while she looked forward to tutoring Minho on Tuesday, she dedicated her time to her life’s chores and commitments.

—

‘What are we doing for the tutoring?’ I texted her when she arrived at school on Monday. ‘Can we meet between classes? I need some help to get my balls drained before class so I can focus ;)’

‘Stop it, Minho,’ was all she replied, feeling a tingle of warmth and arousal ran down her spine nonetheless.

‘I was just kidding’ I replied.

I had responded with some teasing ‘Are you going to be wet on Tuesday’ and ‘Can’t stop thinking about it’ but eventually didn’t push it any further. She would assume I was probably too afraid to scare her off for the upcoming sessions, regardless of how horny I was. But throughout the day, Sooyoung felt increasingly needy herself, unable to resist fantasizing about our upcoming session.

It was hard for her to understand how her student having such a big dick had her so riled up... though some of my otherworldly skill probably had something to do with it. In addition to my prowess, I had been respectful. She supposed not every boy would have behaved so well and been so understanding, even if I relentlessly teased her for doing far more than the rules allowed.

Though my skill in the bedroom, the only reason Sooyoung would ever return to me was the thrill and pleasure it gave her husband. Hyoseob loved the humiliation of someone like me enjoying his wife, and her doing things with me that she would rarely, if ever, do with her husband.

Like allowing my cock between her tits. Or how I made her orgasm like a slutty nympho just by fucking her in a position she wouldn’t normally allow. All of this, combined with the non-committal, almost primal pleasure, made the whole experience tantalizing. It certainly was a lifestyle Sooyoung could learn to enjoy, if she didn’t already.

“Wait up, Ma’am,” I called to her after school as she was heading to her car. She crossed her arms, unintentionally revealing her generous cleavage.

“What is it?” Sooyoung asked, ignoring her sudden nervous excitement. She hoped I wouldn’t put her in such an awkward position out in the open.

I went to the same school where she worked, so we were bound to run into each other. However, it did not make it any less awkward. Even though no one was particularly close, there were still a lot of people around. I leaned against her car, and she leaned back against the same vehicle to play it casual. Just some teacher talking to some pupil. Nothing suspicious about two young adults standing next to her vehicle talking to one another, right?

“What did you want to talk about, Minho?” she repeated.

“So about tomorrow... just what should I expect? You know, for the tutoring,” I said, attempting to stall the conversation. I looked over her with a mischievous glint. Sooyoung’s heart raced, unsure whether she should regret this situation or revel in it.

“If you’re here early, maybe we can just fu-”

“Not today,” Sooyoung said with an all too friendly smirk as she casually pushed herself off the car, trying to end the conversation. “And no more about doing stuff between classes.”

I scoffed and began rubbing my bulge. She frowned, and as my smirk lingered, her gaze was drawn downward.

“H-hey!” she stammered, taking a step away. “That’s hardly appropriate. Especially with students walking by,” she hissed. Sooyoung wanted nothing more than to reach over and grab my cock, squeeze that long, veiny piece of flesh she loved so much.

“Well, when else should I talk to you about it?” I chuckled, taking the same step she had, closing the gap between us.

“You could’ve just texted like you usually do... but fine, hop in and I’ll drive you home. We can talk about it on the way,” She relented, trying to shut me up before anyone noticed and hoping to keep the conversation focused on the actual tutoring. “Now knock it off,” she finished.

I smiled proudly as I entered the passenger side. Sooyoung rolled her eyes and suppressed a groan before getting into the car with me, pushing thoughts away and putting the vehicle in gear.

We talked about the tutoring and homework and stayed relatively cordial the rest of the ride, with only a few irrelevant comments from my part because I couldn’t help but admire her tits and ass.

“So, do you ever teach in class? Like theory or whatever?” I asked.

“Pff, just how much do you skip, Minho?” Sooyoung laughed. “Yeah, sometimes. Usually, around football season so any day now. I even have my own classroom.”

“You gonna tutor me on that stuff eventually?” I asked.

“If you think you have use for it,” She replied. “I have booked the classroom a few times this semester for your actual tutorage, in fact.”

“Oh I’d love to have you in a classroom,” I teased. She looked over, amused, and wondered what I would do with such an opportunity.

“Would you want a private lesson, Mister? Detention maybe?” Sooyoung teased back.

“Oh please, Mrs. Sooyoung, I didn’t mean to pass my paper, could you give me an oral exam? To see if I deserve extra credit?” I grinned.

Sooyoung laughed pulling up at her house. “Then I think you’re in luck,” she said, turning the car into her driveway and switching the engine off. “Jokes aside, we can’t fool around at the school... not more than we already did anyway,” she said, not able to conceal a smirk at the memory.

“You mean to tell me you and Hyoseob never done anything naughty at school?” I replied.

“None of your business, and don’t you try any funny ideas there either.” Sooyoung glared at me. I raised my hands defensively, “Alright, alright.”

As I walked her to her door, my eyes lingered down to her breasts and ass. Sooyoung opened the door and turned to me. “See you tomorrow, then?” she asked.

I smirked as my gaze traced her body. From her big cleavage strutting out in front of her, to her waist and down to her wide childbearing hips, my eyes feasted on her, while she tried her best to ignore the reaction her body had.

“Damn, Sooyoung,” I sighed. She blushed and smiled up at me. “Your ass was so hot, stretching and jiggling as you got out of the car. Wish I had recorded that instead.”

“Glad you were entertained,” Sooyoung retorted.

We stood there in the doorway for a few moments, staring at one another. Sooyoung was waiting for me to leave, and I was ogling her body and thinking God knows what. Sooyoung looked stunning, especially given that her work attire frequently consisted of tight-fitting workout clothes. Tight shirts, shorts, or yoga pants, with a sweater tied around her waist. A bit lewd, maybe, but she wore it flawlessly. Sporty and sexy all in one package.

“You leaving?” Sooyoung inquired, ignoring my leering.

“When is Hyoseob coming home?” I asked.

“In about two hours, why? We’re not-” Sooyoung tried to say something, but I interrupted her by pushing her inside and closing the door behind her. Sooyoung stumbled backward, her mind reeling from the forwardness.

“We are not doing this,” Sooyoung said, though with much less vigour as my hands gripped her fat ass, making her gulp hard. My tongue trailed from her earlobe up to her ear. “Minho, please,” Sooyoung pleaded.

My hands ran down from her wide hips, fingers pressing against the hem of her tights. Sooyoung shuddered in an oh-so-delicious anticipation as she realized how badly she’d longed for my touch these past days. Sooyoung realized she had subconsciously chosen to wear an outfit just for me. To tempt and agitate me. She wanted my warm embrace and confident assertiveness. She wanted my greedy lust to break her body and willpower, only to be soothed by my caring patience, stamina, and thickness.

“Bedroom?” I asked, eager to sink my cock in this lovely, formerly faithful wife.

“Yeah...” Sooyoung answered breathlessly, her pussy wet and her cheeks flushed red as she was powerless to resist me, so powerfully she wished I’d bend her over, rip off her tight-fitting garments and-

“Sooyoung? Are you back?” Hyoseob’s voice cut in through the silence, right at that moment.

“Hyoseob! Why’re you home so early? I thought you were staying at the office all day for your important deadline!” Sooyoung answered nervously, fidgeting with the front door for me to get out, looking as Hyoseob came out from the kitchen.

“Eh, they cancelled the deadline; was a miscommunication with the client, and a chance for me to… Sooyoung, what is going on?” He didn’t sound angry, but he had every right to be. Sooyoung was in the process of breaking the rules again, and probably several of them. She had no mind to record it, as it was full steam ahead.

“Well, what do we have here,” Hyoseob scolded playfully. He approached, inspecting her up-and-down as he circled Sooyoung and I, now somewhat frozen from the sudden shock.

“You’re a sight to see, baby,” he murmured and stood before us. “But not what I expected to come crashing through the door,” Hyoseob continued, “but I understand the appeal.”

He smiled as his wife’s mouth bobbed up and down with no words emerging. Her words were caught in her throat before she eventually found her voice.

“Don’t be upset babe, we were talking... then... I mean,” Sooyoung stuttered.

“Relax, I’m not angry,” Hyoseob assured. “Why should I be? Look, it is pretty hot to see you almost fall over, all stunned and panting at Minho.”

A nervous, giddy chuckle erupted from Sooyoung. She licked her lips and blinked slowly.

“Sorry to barge in like this,” I stated, my grip on Sooyoung’s waist still. “Just thought...”

“You’d fuck my wife?” Hyoseob replied.

“Listen, I’ll just leave,” I said.

“Leave?” Hyoseob asked in mock surprise, smiling coyly. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve started it. You can’t stop now.”

“Okay?” I breathed.

“Hey, this is my chance to watch it live. Consider it another hall pass,” Hyoseob said.

Sooyoung didn’t think they’d do any more hall passes, especially so soon after her last one, but she wasn’t going to argue, instead turning around and pressing her round butt against my bulge. I smirked, pressing back, reaching up to the rim of her short shirt, tracing the fabric, and skimming my fingers against the hem of her spandex tights, which I began rolling down her hips.

“Wait,” Sooyoung said. “Didn’t you say something about a bedroom?” she added, meeting Hyoseob’s stare. His eyes widened. ‘That’s right, I’m taking him to our marital bed,’ Sooyoung thought as she looked at her husband. If he was so accepting, let’s see how far he’d let her take it.

She grabbed my hand and pulled me upstairs. She was powerless to stop herself now that she had free reign and was absolutely in heat; she needed to be fuck senseless like the horny slut she’d become, right in her and her husband’s marital bed, with her husband watching no less. Sooyoung entered the bedroom and stood by the footboard, pulling me in behind.

“Lay on your back,” I told her. “I wanna see those huge tits jiggle as I stretch out your pussy,” I added.

Sooyoung didn’t respond, but obeyed nonetheless, feeling even hotter from hearing the lewd order. She laid down, ready and wanting. She heard the sound of their breathing, mixed with Hyoseob’s, who silently sat watching on a chair off to the side.

I began stripping off, her gaze fixed on my body. It seemed like an eternity since we’d had each other. She had to admit her disappointment at having her fun cut short. But hopefully, we’d have a lot more time and wouldn’t have to rush or wait for Hyoseob’s arrival.

I moved closer to her, climbing onto the bed until my cock was above her face. A shiver went through her. Sooyoung laid down, extending a hand to wrap around my hovering girth. I chuckled as her soft grip met mine, her fingertips barely touching on both sides. My foreskin was tight and firm over the bulging cockhead, with a wispy cum beading on the slit. She raised her head, extending her neck, and touched my tip with her tongue, her eyes closed and breathing heavily. The wet tongue licked the bead, and she salivated at the unpleasant taste. She was in disbelief about her own actions, doing something so dirty with someone other than her husband. The shame fueled her even more, but she couldn’t push herself any further than this. She lowered her head back on the pillow, allowing the thick piece to hang in front of her, dragging along her chin and grazing over her tits, drooling even more heavily as it made its way, coating the firm boobs and pebbled nipples.

Sooyoung looked up to see me looking down at her, a smirk flashing across my coarse features. Sooyoung understood what I was looking for, what I desired. Despite her embarrassment, Sooyoung was hungry for my dick after tasting the copious amounts of delicious delight I could provide her with. However, as I climbed down her body, I did not align my cock with her. No, I wanted to show Hyoseob how much better I was without even using my cock, so I sunk down the married couple’s marital bed and buried my head between her flawless thighs.

“Oh god,” Sooyoung mumbled in pent-up anticipation for the oncoming onslaught.

Hyoseob sat in a chair in the corner of his own bedroom, watching me sink my head between his wife’s spread legs, obscuring his view of her dripping entrance. It was a hard feat to understand how well Sooyoung responded to my touches. It wrecked him as much as it aroused him, and witnessing the events before him was the worst kind of train carnage he couldn’t pull his eyes from.

“Oh- Ohhh,” Hyoseob heard his wife moan, a deep, almost painful groan escaping from her chest. His dick stirred when he saw her lost in pleasure. Her knees were drawn in the air, and her heels were sliding down my wide back, pushing her pelvis forward and mashing her opening against my tongue. His sexy prideful wife was being ravaged by one of her students. Right in front of him.

Sooyoung began panting as her hands took hold of my head, entangling her fingers in my hair and ensuring my face remained rooted in place as I tongue fucked her sopping, hungry pussy. my hands gripped this wife’s athletic thighs as she ground against mine, the bed creaking and rocking in the process. Sooyoung reached back with one arm, holding onto the headboard, while her other kept my head pressed in tightly, her jaw jutted out and her eyes focused.

I worked her like a pro. With each twitch and whimper, labored groan, and gasping squeak, I reacted accordingly, guiding her into a boiling heat that was gradually building in her core, until my skilled tongue finally broke her open, sending her shuddering into an explosive orgasm that drenched my tongue in her juices.

I knew right away that Sooyoung and her husband had never done or come close to accomplishing anything like this before. Nothing in our long sexual history compared.

“Fuck! How...” Sooyoung groaned as her convulsions subsided. She drew her arm back and lay there exhausted, my lips smirking against her sticky thighs.

My cock hadn’t gotten the pleasure it craved, and the impatience was evident in the rigid shaft. I was tall and proud on my knees above her. Sooyoung turned her head, realizing that my cock had not only missed her, but also been neglected. My thick piece had bobbed and bounced, waving and whipping in the air, and landing all over their sheets. I chuckled as the disheveled teacher regained her composure.

“Fuck, Minho, how’d you get so good at that?” She sighed as her fingers and gaze moved down my body. “It’s crazy how fast you can get me off, it’s unfair.”

“Had plenty of practice,” I told her.

“Yeah? With who?”

“Minju, Hana, Sujin, Eunha, so on,” Minho bragged.

“Eunha? Our neighbor?” Sooyoung asked.

It wasn’t typical of her to be so nosy, but Hyoseob could tell, my already extensive experience interested her. Meanwhile, He sat, enraged and jealous. Not only did I get to fuck his wife, but I also had free access to every teen girl in the neighborhood.

“This dirty cock has been in a lot of dirty places, then,” Sooyoung purred while stroking my cock between her legs, enticed by my obscenities. Hyoseob was taken aback by how hot she was, not just because I was in front of her, but also because she was so responsive to it. This was a very different Sooyoung, one who clearly enjoyed the experience and knowledge one had to offer, he thought.

“Turn over,” I instructed, “Get on your hands and knees for me.”

“God, yes,” Sooyoung hissed.

And just like that she was on all fours, knees far apart, her tight entrance exposed, wet, and more than ready. That big sexy ass I could fondle and worship for hours strutted out for mine to feast. I noticed her shaking from anticipation, the pleasurable experience in her pussy still burning and spreading like wildfire, warming her entire body from the inside out.

“Yesss...” she groaned as my cock head settled down against her outer lips, coating the bottom in her leaking juices. It was a hell of a tease.

“Unnh! Minho, come on. Just... FUCK ME!” Sooyoung begged.

“What’s that? What is it that you want?” I teased.

“Please.” Sooyoung inhaled sharply. “I want you!”

“If I fuck you, and I’m not your husband, what does that make him?” I teased, nodding in Hyoseob’s direction.

“A cuck-UGH!” Sooyoung groaned out as I started to push my cock inside her unfaithful hole, taking control.

I fully leaned over her and crawled my hands around and under her, getting ahold of her full tits, cock lodged deep within her as I mounted her. “That’s what I thought,” I muttered, before starting my slow pace.

Hyoseob’s dick throbbed wildly. What could He say about such a display? It was unlike anything he could have imagined or experienced. His own wife was having the time of her life right in front of him, and with someone else, not to mention, her student. He’d never seen her so hot.

“Minho! You’re so BIG. Fuck me!” she moaned, in complete surrender and acceptance of a situation.

“Damn, you are tight... i can’t believe how fucking tight you are!” I pounded her harder. The bed creaked rhythmically in tune with my hips snapping against her big ass.

The bedroom echoed with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, and the wife’s moan rang in his ears. Hyoseob could hear our breathing become heavier as I brought her to climax again. Sooyoung’s breath caught in her throat for a moment before she cried out in delight as I fucked her straight through her orgasm without mercy.

“Like that, Hyoseob?” I taunted him over the moans and whimpers that his lovely wife couldn’t restrain. “Like watching me make your wife cum?!” I asked.

It wasn’t the first time Hyoseob saw Sooyoung do sex acts he’d always fantasized about, but seeing live in front of him was both magnificent and terrifying, given that he couldn’t ever be the one to do those things with her. Or perhaps the only difference between my cock and him was that I knew how to please her far better than her husband could.

“Like to see me breaking your wife? Defiling your wife in your-fucking-bed?” I groaned, thrusting firm and hard. “I’ll never grow tired of a pussy like this! Never! What a fucking MILF!”

Sooyoung was so into it, fully submerging in the wild ride I was giving her. I wasn’t holding back, giving her the kind of rough treatment that no one else could give. That only I could. That her husband certainly couldn’t. Her insides wrapped around mine like a fist as I pummeled her from behind.

I gave Sooyoung long, deliberate, penetrating, slow, torturous thrusts before pounding her hard and deep, letting my cock bury its enormous mass inside. Her huge breasts, undulating back and forth on the surface, would slide a little, causing her hard nipples to briefly rub the fabric.

“He’s fucking me so hard, Hyoseob,” Sooyoung whimpered. “This is all your fault!”

“Holy shit,” He muttered.

“I’d never fuck this shithead if you hadn’t pushed for this!” Sooyoung cried.

“Oh god,” Hyoseob groaned, feeling his impending orgasm rise and then subside as he forced himself to stop jerking.

“Unnh-NNH! MINHO!”

“Tell him how deep my cock is going inside this sweet married pussy. How it stretches you,” I teased.

“Minho, uggh- your cuh-cuh-cocks SO DEEP! Fuck me harder... faster. My pussy is a-and, I need you t-to fuuuck-AAAA.” Sooyoung was incoherent as she exploded. Her body collapsed underneath me as her arms and elbows gave out from my force.

I’m panting profusely and abruptly pulling out of Sooyoung. “Get in there,” I instructed, getting out of bed.

Sooyoung rolled onto her back, allowing Hyoseob to climb between her thighs and eagerly plunge himself between us. The contrast was noticeable. He struggled to fill her with his own member, just as I did. She wrapped her arms around him, keeping him close as we rutted together.

“Feels really nice,” Sooyoung assured him earnestly, panting into his ear, but his depraved brain refused to believe her, unable to shake the fact that she had just been fucked hard, pounded deep, and railed thoroughly by someone much bigger.

“Shit... you’re so much looser,” Hyoseob said bluntly. Sooyoung closed her eyes, enjoying his body and ignoring what he had just said. She let out a series of pants and groans, but was lacking. I had really stretched her. He just hoped it didn’t mean that his relationship with his wife had changed.

“Oh god, keep doing it!” Sooyoung gasped and groaned beneath her husband, writhing her body as the waves of pleasure crashed into her. She writhed and contorted in front of him, receiving his shallow thrusts with relative ease.

But her orgasm never came. She panted and bucked against him, but the friction just wasn’t there enough to bring her over the edge. Hyoseob didn’t think Sooyoung realized it, but He wasn’t enough anymore. Not anymore. Not after being taken so far, stretched out, and then slammed, with so much weight and girth. It made a huge difference. She clenched hard around him but didn’t get it where she wanted. She needed something more than him.

The realization burned through him and almost made him cum right away, but instead, Hyoseob felt a tap on his shoulder.

“I’m going back in,” I smirked. “I’ll take care of it.”

I pushed him away and crawled back between Sooyoung’s thighs, forcing him to sit back and jerk off while he watched his wife being fucked by another guy. I don’t think Sooyoung noticed his withdrawal, especially since I reinserted my cock inside her. Sooyoung threw her head back and let out a howl. I picked up right away, maintaining the exact same pace of deep, hard strokes inside of her.

Hyoseob felt hurt being forced to climb back to the chair in the corner, hearing how much Sooyoung enjoys someone else more than him, but at the same time, he felt an intense arousal of humiliation to witness this sight. The way I’m dominantly forcing myself inside her lovely wife, pinning her in place and rekindling her pleasure. She cried for more.

“Take my cock! Take it like a slut!” I kept going.

“Uhnnnh... feels soooo gooood,” Sooyoung panted, clawing and pulling.

I paused just long enough to grab Sooyoung’s wrists and pin them above her head, taking on a male dominant position of ownership. As a bull over his cow, or in this case, a stud mounting his breeding mare. Hyoseob thought back to their lives together, him and Sooyoung. Everything they had experienced together, it all leading to her get fucked by another man.

She arched her back and pressed her breasts against my chest, squirming under me as the heat built up again, more and more, until, with the clench and tingle of pleasure in the stomach and thighs, Sooyoung lost herself in an orgasm, feeling an enormous pressure rising, climbing up from the depths of her pussy, pushing upwards, stretching. Sooyoung squirmed beneath my dominance, gasping, unable to grasp reality as every cell in her body became electrified in response to my hard pummeling.

I then slowed down, letting Sooyoung come down, sinking my lips against hers, and we began to kiss intimately.

“Minho...” She whispered in a raspy voice, gazing into mine.

Sooyoung could hardly speak. She tried, but the words fell short and were barely audible, a quiet and excited stuttering, but as the fog lifted and reality returned, and she started to remember the moment, her tone shifted. Her voice grew stronger, more aware of her situation. “Fuck...” she continued in a less reverent whisper. “Jesus Christ, what is going on...”

“Well... we’re cucking your husband,” I said bluntly.

“Are you mad? Am I in trouble?”

Sooyoung let out a giggle and let me drop my head to her neck, causing her giggle to turn into a moan as I began licking her soft skin while humping her womb.

“Are you going to talk?” I breathed, my full cock sinking slowly into her. “Come on. “Let him hear.”

“Oh my g-uuuh.” Sooyoung trailed off, the words cut off, distracted by massive tool filling her up, touching her walls.

“Now tell me again. Tell him, the reason you have allowed me to defile you,” I teased, not relenting my pace, while whispering in her ear.

“Ohhh,” Sooyoung moaned, shivering, clutching my muscles. Sooyoung whimpered, gritting her teeth to her effort. But not responding was beyond impossible. She had never felt so full.

“Your husbands’ too tiny, isn’t he?” I egged her on.

“My husband is great, I swear, but you’re so big and he’s not,” Sooyoung got out, my fat cock-head poking into her, brushing into a particularly sensitive spot in the inner wall.

“That’s right,” I said with satisfied smirk.

“Ohh!” Sooyoung groaned.

“That’s why you needed to cuck your husband.”

“God Minho...” Sooyoung moaned.

“Just answer.”

“Yes,” Sooyoung blurted out. “My husband is great, I promise- oh my! But he couldn’t fulfill all my needs, my cravings.” Sooyoung paused and closed her eyes. I slowed down because I didn’t want her orgasm to take her away just yet. “That’s why, fuck, I needed you here. So you could give me what I really needed.”

Sooyoung returned my gaze, a loving, heated expression on her face. I kissed her, pressing our lips and tongues together. And we resumed our fucking, moaning together and filling the bedroom with the sounds of flesh slapping, groans, and grunts.

Hyoseob raised his hand to stroke himself, rubbing his dick furiously. His body and mind were filled with emotions and stress. Sooyoung hadn’t been lying about his size, and watching how I held nothing back as my thick meat began stretching his wife again, plunging into her over and over... He had no idea how we were doing it; with our perfect fit, it must have felt like heaven. His eyes burned with a desire to break down. He is unsure whether he is feeling shame, happiness, anger, or passion. He closed his eyes for a second to concentrate on his wife’s agonizing moans and the obscene slick sounds of her being pounded so deliciously and thoroughly.

“Hyoseob, watch me make your wife cum again,” I said.

He could only nod and bite down his own moans, proving my statement correct. The display in front of him became more and more lewd and heated as she moved her mouth to my ears and allowed me to feel her warm breath, while our hips went insane, slamming into her like a high-powered machine.

“You want it,” I told her.

“Ah! Ah! Uuungh,” Sooyoung got out, a half groan, half whisper.

“Oh yes you do. Cum on my cock!” I commanded.

“Minho...” Sooyoung moaned in her raspy voice.

“Don’t bother to fight it, Ma’am.”

“Minho I’m so close, I’m going crazy here, just take my womb.”

I pummeled down deep, thrusting firmly and keeping my base flush. Sooyoung’s hips rose from the sheets and began bucking upward, meeting my heavy thrusts. Our speed increased together. “Minho!” she kept saying my name like a mantra. Sooyoung grunted as I pushed deeper inside of her. She had to scream as I kept my promise.

“Okay,” Sooyoung hissed after an eternity.

I smiled and slid off of her. Sooyoung leaned back into the mattress and spread her legs, arching her hips, watching as my cock come out covered in our collective fluids, thick, sticky, and white. It was hard to comprehend that all that had been inside her, and even more was still spilling out. It was so thick and creamy.

“I haven’t cum this hard since forever,” Sooyoung moaned.

“You did amazing. I can’t wait for a lot more,” I told Sooyoung.

“Yee-ees, me too, baby.” Sooyoung wrapped her arms and legs around me and kissed me eagerly as her eyes flashed towards her husband, a little unsure, maybe even scared, her glance uncertain, her pupils wide, and then she just looked straight at him.

“You okay, Hyoseob?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, yeah... just hard to get over how much of that got in you,” Hyoseob said, laughing. While his expression was undoubtedly one of shock, he was actually doing more than fine. Watching his wife pleasured by another man is an image that will stay with him forever, and the experience left him oddly satisfied. It almost made him happy that she had gotten to experience something like this.

“Well, anyway,” I said, standing up. “I am drained. And we’re not in a real session, so I’m heading out.”

“Sure thing,” Sooyoung said. “And the session tomorrow? Let’s... Let’s put that one on hold for now, okay? We need a bit... a bit of control, I think.”

I nodded and began to dress up. It was reassuring when Sooyoung, the smart person she was, took the steering wheel. When the dust settled, she still considered her husband’s turmoil. Hyoseob was probably complacent enough for us to do more, but Sooyoung was probably right in pulling on the emergency brakes.

“So,” Sooyoung turned to Hyoseob after I left. “Wow, huh.”

He simply nodded, trying to process the event that had transpired. Sooyoung got up and moved in beside him.

“What just happened?” He asked, dumfounded.

“Well, we cucked you,” Sooyoung said, studying his expression as she waited for his reaction to her words. “Was it too much?”

“I... think so. I’m glad you got to experience it... but watching it in front of me was a bit much, perhaps.” He explained to her. “Like, yeah, you’re hot as hell. This entire event is extremely hot, and seeing another man fuck you so well is quite thrilling. But hearing you moan and say all of that... it was almost too much for me. I’m not sure if I can handle seeing it live... especially since he asked me to join in...”

Sooyoung nodded understanding. “So you think we should move on from this whole thing?”

“No! No, I love it. It makes it harder for me to return to the same things later,” he laughed. Sooyoung also giggled. “No, I’m all on for it still, but I think we need a cooling period,” he replied. “At the very least, I participated in real life... However, the videos are quite good.

“Sure thing,” Sooyoung said, with a warm, understanding smile. “And I won’t do anything until you’re ready for it to continue. If ever. I only enjoy this if you enjoy it.”

“You’d do that?” He asked. “Despite everything?”

“Of course... I know I failed before, but I would try with all my might. I don’t want to risk everything for something like that, and honestly, I don’t think Minho would either.”

They linger like that for a bit.

“Sooyoung, can I ask you something?” Hyoseob started. Sooyoung nodded. “Why is it so different? I mean, aside from the obvious physical things. You’re so much wilder with Minho.”

“Aside from how his bigger size just hits differently?” Sooyoung asked, shooting him a smirk, which He returned. “Well... I don’t know. Honestly, maybe it was always there, I just never brought it out. The raw physical aspect. And with Minho it is just that, so much more raw and physical action. I don’t love him, nowhere close, and I don’t think for a second he loves me. And for women sex and emotions are entwined and psychological. With Minho, there is no relationship like that, so it’s purely physical. It’s like I can let go more, if that makes sense. Have good sex with no repercussions, if that also makes sense.”

Hyoseob paused for a few seconds. “I guess that makes sense, yeah. When did you get so smart?” He joked.

“Shut up,” Sooyoung said, slapping his chest. “So everything okay? Anything more you wanna ask, because I want to answer everything you want to know as far as I can.”

“No, I think I’m good. Let’s put a breather on this whole thing then take it from there.”

“Okay, got it,” Sooyoung said with a smile, wrapping a hand around his husband, and cuddling into him as she laid her head on his chest. He placed an arm on her shoulder and held her close, her soft boobs pressing against him. The cuddle made them fall asleep, together, exhausted from the day’s adventure.

#joy smut #park sooyoung smut #red velvet smut #kpop smut #girl group smut #female idol smut #male reader

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